O-  f  f  - '  ^ 


from  t^e  feifirari?  of 
(profe66or  Trimam  Otiffer  (J)d;rton,  ©.©.  &&.©. 

to  f ^e  feifirari?  ot 
(|)ttnceton  t^eofogicdf  ^eminarjj 


BX  9225  .G82  H34  1871 
Halsey,  Le  Roy  J.  1812-1896 
Memoir  of  the  life  and 
character  of  Rev.  Lewis 


MEMOIR        i^^AR  11191; 


fr.  ii    cuc^'A 


LIFE    Al^D    CHAEACTEIl 


REY.  LEWIS  WARNER  GREEN,  D.D. 


SELECTION  FROM  HIS  SERMONS. 


LE  ROY   J.  PIALSEY,   D.IX. 

PROrE660E    IN     THE    THEOLOGICAL    SEMINARY    OF    TUE    NOKTUAVEST. 


NEW    YORK: 

CHARLES     SORIBNER     &    CO. 

1871. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S71, 
By  CHARLES  SCRIBNER  &  CO., 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


PEEFACE 


In  publishing  the  present  volume,  containing  a  selection  of  Dr. 
Green's  Discourses,  ^Yith  a  Memoir  of  his  Life,  the  purpose  has  been 
twofold  :  first,  to  place  in  the  hands  of  his  numerous  friends  and  pu- 
pils, some  suitable  memorial  of  one  whom  they  greatly  loved  and  ad- 
mired ;  and  secondly,  to  preserve  for  the  wider  circle  of  the  public,  and 
especially  of  our  young  ministry,  the  record  of  a  life  singularly  devoted 
to  the  great  work  of  education,  and  blessed  of  God  in  the  varied 
spheres  of  its  influence.  He  lived  in  an  eventful  period  of  the  Ameri- 
can Church,  and  filled  successively  many  important  positions  in  the 
central  and  western  portions  of  our  country.  It  has  been  thought, 
therefore,  that  some  monument  of  this  kind  was  due  to  his  memory, 
and  that  hundreds  of  his  friends  and  pupils,  in  all  parts  of  the  land, 
who  had  heard  his  living  voice,  would  gladly  welcome  a  volume  of 
his  strikingly  original  and  elevated  discourses. 

Our  great  and  good  men,  especially  at  the  West,  live,  labor,  die, 
and  are  too  soon  forgotten.  The  writer  of  the  Memoir  has  felt  that  it 
would  be  a  service  to  the  ministry,  to  the  church,  and  to  the  country, 
to  place  on  record,  along  with  these  discourses,  some  fitting  tribute 
to  a  man  of  God,  who  served  his  generation  well,  and  who  had  at- 
tained to  a  purity  and  elevation  of  character  not  often  surpassed. 
Amid  the  feverish  excitements  in  which  we  live,  the  retrospect  of  a 
life  so  consecrated  to  God,  so  lifted  above  the  murky  atmosphere  of 
earthly  pursuits  and  ambitions,  may  come  like  an  inspiration  from  a 
purer  world  to  teach  us  the  value  of  things  unseen  and  eternal.  It  was 
a  life  eminently  distinguished  as  one  of  thoughtful  contemplation, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  intensely  devoted  to  work,  and  to  all  active, 
.practical  duty. 


iv  PREFACE. 

The  sermons  of  tliis  vol  lime  are  now  published  for  the  first  time. 
They  had  never  been  prepared  for  the  press  by  their  author;  and  they 
are,  almost  without  exception,  what  his  own  hand  marked  them — 
"  unfinished  sketches."  They  are  selected  from  a  large  mass  of  simi- 
lar manuscripts.  Gifted  in  extemporaneous  delivery,  and  able  to 
recall  any  trains  of  thought  which  had  been  once  mentally  composed, 
he  was  accustomed  to  write  only  an  outline  of  the  intellectual  and 
argumentative  portions  of  his  discourses;  and  then  to  trust  himself 
-without  writing  for  all  the  emotional  and  exhortatory  parts.  This 
will  account  for  the  fragmentary  character  of  some  of  the  sermons,  and 
for  their  apparent  want  of  pointed  application  at  the  close.  Though 
it  was  in  the  unwritten  applications  and  perorations  that  he  often  rose 
to  his  highest  excellence  of  thrilling  and  impassioned  eloquence, 
still  enough  remains,  in  these  uncompleted  productions,  to  reveal 
many  of  the  striking  characteristics  which  distinguished  him  as  one 
of  the  most  original,  impressive,  and  powerful  preachers  of  his  day. 

The  estimate  here  given  of  Dr.  Green's  ability,  both  as  a  teacher 
and  a  preacher,  is  based  upon  the  testimony  of  many  competent 
judges  among  his  contemporaries.  It  will  doubtless  commend  itself 
as  just,  to  such  readers  as  may  have  enjoyed  his  instructions  or  heard 
him  in  the  pulpit.  The  writer  has  not  aimed  to  eulogize,  but  to  pre- 
sent a  true  picture  of  the  man  and  the  minister — avoiding  the 
extreme  of  an  over-estimate  on  the  one  hand,  and  that  of  saying  too 
little  on  the  other.  At  all  events,  it  is  a  satisfaction  to  know  that  the 
sermons  are  before  the  reader  to  speak  for  themselves ;  and  from  them, 
though  that  powerful  living  voice  can  no  more  be  heard,  he  will  be 
able  to  form  his  own  estimate  of  what  the  lamented  author  preached, 
and  how  he  preached. 


COXTEI^J'TS. 

CHAPTER  I. 

DA>iviLLE,   1806 — 1824. 

Birth. — Parentage. — Early  Education. — Maternal  Influence. — Orphanage. — 
Judge  John  Green. — Schools  and  Teachers. — Studies  at  Dr.  Lewis  Mar- 
shall's.— Classical  Attainments. — Conversion  and  Profession  of  Religion, 
— Dangerous  Illness. — Recovery. — Deep  Religious  Impressions. — Tran- 
sylvania University. — Centre  College. — Graduation. — Fondness  for  Philo- 
sophical Investigations Page   1 

CHAPTER  II. 

Daxville  axd  Prixcetox,  1824 — 1832. 

Choice  of  a  Profession. — Deep  Experiences. — Conflicting  Plans  and  Purposes. 
— Becomes  a  Student  of  Law. — Then  of  Medicine. — Settles  on  a  Farm. — 
Impediment  of  Speech. — His  Marriage. — Death  of  his  Wife. — A  Final 
Decision. — Preparation  for  the  Ministry. — Studies  at  Yale  College. — 
At  the  Theological  Seminary  in  Princeton. — Recollections  of  Drs.  Board- 
man  and  Junkin 9 

CHAPTER  III. 
Daxyille,   1832—1840. 

Opening  Years  of  his  Ministry, — Licensure  and  Ordination. — Professorship  in 
Centre  College. — Anecdote. — Punctuality. — Skill  in  Teaching. — Style  of 
Preaching. — Second  Marriage. — Voyage  to  Europe, — Studies  and  Attain- 
ments Abroad. — Travels  and  Acquaintance. — Return  to  Danville — Call  to 
Shelbyville  declined. — Professorship  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  South 
Hanover. — Professorship  and  Vice- Presidency  in  Centre  College. — Presi- 
dency of  Transylvania  University  declined, — Colleague-Pastor  at  Danville, 
— Emancipation 1 G 


vi  COXTKNTS. 

CHAPTER   lY. 

Alleghexy,  1840—1847. 

Election  to  a  Professorship  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  AUeghenr. — Testi- 
monial as  to  his  Ability. — His  Colleagues  in  the  Facult3^ — Inaugural  Ad- 
dress.— German  Philosophy. — Growing  Reputation. — Literary  Addresses. 
— Lectures  on  Popery, — The  Title  of  Doctor  of  Divinity. — Standing 
and  Iniluenco  as  a  Preacher  and  Instructor. — Various  Calls. — Testimoni- 
als from  Dr.  R.  L.  Breck. — From  Drs.  "Wilson  and  Ahison. — From  Dr. 
McGill— From  Dr.  David  Elliott.— Seven  Years'  Work Page  2T 

CHAPTER  y. 

Baltimoee,  1847—1848. 

Resignation  of  Professorship  at  Allegheny. — Removal  to  Baltimore. — Prefer- 
ence of  the  Pastoral  Work. — Labors  in  the  Second  Presbj'terian  Church. 
— Congenial  and  Fseful  Employment. — Failure  of  Health. — Dissolution 
of  Pastoral  Relation. — Xoble  Testimonial  of  his  Church. — Poetical 
Tribute 38 

CHAPTER   YI. 

Peixce  Edward,  1848—1856. 

Election  to  the  Presidency  of  Hampden  Sidney  College. — Intercourse  with  the 
Professors. — Portraiture  by  Dr.  Foote. — Restored  Health. — Extended  La- 
bors.— Scholarships. — Successful  Administration. — Influence  on  the  Stu- 
dents.— Style  of  Preaching. — Anecdote. — Method  of  Discipline. — Account 
of  it  bv  Dr.  Dabnev. — Testimonial  of  Dr.  Wilson. — Various  Calls 43 


CHAPTER  YH. 

Lexington  and  Danville,  1856 — 1863. 

Positions  Declined. — Predilections  for  the  West. — Strong  Call  from  Kentucky. 
— Resignation  of  his  Presidency  at  Hampden  Sidney. — Presidency  of 
Transylvania  University. — Scheme  for  a  N'ormal  School. — Inauguration. — 
Auspicious  Beginning. — Disappointments. — Resigiiation. — Called  to  the 
Presidency  of  Centre  College. — Inaugural  Address. — Joint  Pastorate  in 
Danville.  —  Successful  Alministration. —  Trials  and  Conflicts.  —  Testi- 
monial     01 


CONTEXTS.  vii 

CHAPTER  VIIT. 

Daxyille,   1803. 

Last  Sickness  and  Death. — Multiplied  Labors. — The  Church  and  College. — 
Cause  of  his  Illness. — Incessant  Work. — The  Closing  Scene — His  Last 
Sermons. — Increased  Spirituality. — Intense  Sympathies. — Letters  on  the 
"War. — Ministry  of  Love  and  Consolation. — His  Funeral. — Burial. — Reso- 
lutions of  his  Church  and  of  the  Faculty Page  59 

CHAPTER   IX. 

Review  of  his  Public  Services. — Estimate  of  his  Preaching. — Prominent  Traits 
of  Character. — His  Fervor. — High  Sense  of  Honor. — Conscientiousness. — 
His  Beneficence. — His  Learning  and  Eloquence. — His  Excellence  as  an 
Instructor. — Influence  as  a  College  President. — Testimony  of  Dr.  Dab- 
ney. — His  Strong  Points. — His  Elevated  Tastes  and  Studies. — His  Love  of 
Books. — His  Religious  Devotion. — Personal  Appearance. — His  Pohshed 
Manners. — Easy  Address. — Tact  in  Conversation. — Ministries  of  Love 
and  Mercy 70 

CHAPTER   X. 

Dr.  Green  in  his  Family. — Members  of  his  Home-Circle. — The  Husband  and 
Father. — Intensity  of  his  Affections. — Picture  of  Domestic  Happiness. — 
Description  by  Dr.  Foote.— Mrs.  Green. — Poetry. — Education  of  his  Daugh- 
ters.— Religious  Character  of  his  Correspondence. — Beautiful  Letters.  .81 

CHAPTER   XI. 

His  "Writhigs. — Unpublished  Sermons. — Inaugural  Discourses. — Literary  and 
Educational  Addresses. — Lectures  at  the  University  of  Virginia. — Ad- 
verse Criticism. — Method  of  Preparation  for  the  Pidpit. — Estimate  of  his 
Preaching  by  Dr.  Brank. —Estimate  by  Rev.  W.  G.  Craig. — Closing 
Tribute  from  a  Ladv 01 


SERMOiTS 


PACK 

I.  The  Resurrection  op  Christ 103 

The  Lord  is  risen,  indeed.— Luke,  xxiv.  34. 

11.  The  Sin  and  Folly  of  Atheism 119 

The  fool  hath  said  In  his  heart,  There  is  no  God. — Ps.  liii.  1. 

Iir.  What  was  Fixished  ix  the  Death  of  Christ 137 

He  said,  It  is  finished ;  and  bowed  his  head,  and  gave  up  the  ghost. — 
Jonx,  xix.  30. 

lY.  The  Angels  Interested  in  Max's  Salvation U9 

Which  things  the  angels  desire  to  look  into. — 1  Pet.,  i.  12. 

V.  Paul's  Zeal  for  Israel,  and  its  Lessoxs 1 65 

I  sa}' the  truth  in  Christ,  I  lie  not,  my  conscience  also  bearing  me  witness 
in  the  Holy  Ghost,  that  I  have  great  heaviness  and  continual  sorrow  in 
my  heart.  For  I  could  wish  that  myself  were  accursed  from  Christ  for 
my  brethren,  my  kinsmen  according  to  the  flesh:  who  are  Israelites;  to 
whom  pertaineth  the  adoption,  and  the  glory,  and  the  covenants,  and  the 
giving  of  the  law,  and  the  service  of  God,  and  the  promises;  whose  are 
the  fathers,  and  of  whom,  as  concerning  the  flesh,  Clirist  came,  who  is  over 
all,  God  blessed  forever.     Amen. — Eomaxs,  ix.  1-5. 

YI.  The  Question  and  its  Answer HG 

Sirs,  what  must  I  do  to  be  saved  ? — Acts,  xvi.  30. 

YIT.  The  Excellency  of  the  Knowledge  of  Christ 188 

For  I  determined  not  to  know  anything  among  you,  save  Jesus  Christ,  and 
him  crucified. — 1  Cob.,  ii.  2. 

Ylir.  Paul  Yixdicated  from  the  Charge  of  Madness 199 

And  as  he  thus  spake  for  himself,  Festus  said  with  a  loud  Vdiee,  Paul,  thou 
art  beside  thyself;  much  learning  hath  made  thee  mad.  But  he  said,  I 
am  not  mad,  most  noble  Festus;  but  i^peak  forth  the  words  ol  truth  and 
sobcruess. — Acts,  xxvi.  24,  23. 


X  SERMONS.  f 

PAOB 

IX.-Man's  Coxdition  as  a  Prodigal  Son 213 

And  he  would  fain  havi  filled  his  belly  with  the  husks  that  the  swine  did 
eat. — Luke,  xv.  16. 

X.  Worth  of  the  Soul 226 

For  what  shall  it  profit  a  man,  if  he  shall  gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose 
his  own  soul?  Or  what  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for  his  soul? — 
Mark,  viii.  36,  37. 

XI.  The  Love  of  the  "World 23^ 

Love  not  the  world,  neither  the  things  of  the  world. — 1  Joiix,  ii.  15. 

Xri.  The  Grounds  on  which  Men  Reject  the  Gospel 256 

And  they  all  with  one  consent  began  to  make  excuse.— Luke,  xiv.  IS. 

XIIT.  The    Duty,    Encouragement,   and    Responsibility  arising 

FROM  THE  Possession  of  Talents 271 

Occupy  till  I  come.— Luke,  xix.  13. 

XIV.  The  Faithful  Saying 293 

This  is  a  faithful  saying,  and  worthy  of  all  acceptation,  that  Christ  Jesus 
came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners,  of  whom  I  am  chief. — 1  Tim.,  i.  15. 

XY.  The  Power  and  Triumph  of  the  Gospel 302 

I  am  not  ashamed  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  for  it  is  the  power  of  God  unto 
salvation  to  every  one  that  bclieveth. — Romans,  i.  16. 

XVI.  The  Remission  of  Sins  through  Faith  in  Christ 318 

To  him  give  all  the  prophets  witness,  that  through  his  name,  whosoever 
believeth  on  him,  shall  receive  remission  of  sins. — Acts,  x.  43. 

XVII.  The  Expansive  Benevolence  of  the  Gospel 336 

The  field  is  the  world.— Matt.,  xiii.  38. 
XVIII.  The  Province  of  Faith 347 

Ye  believe  in  God,  believe  also  in  me. — John,  xiv.  1. 

XIX.  How  Life  is  to  be  Improved 365 

So  teach  us  to  number  our  days,  that  we  may  apply  our  hearts  unto  wis- 
dom.— Ps.,  xc.  12. 

XX.  Does  God  Always  Punish  Six? .380 

There  is  one  event  unto  all.— EccL.,  ix.  3.  There  is  a  vanity  which  is  done 
upon  the  earth  ;  that  there  be  just  men  unto  whom  it  happeneth  accord- 
ing to  the  work  of  the  wicked :  asain,  there  be  wicked  men  to  whom 
it  happeneth  according  to  the  work  of  the  righteous. — Eccr,.,  viii.  14. 


SERMONS.  51 

PACE 

XXI.  The  Religion  of  the  Bible  not  Opposed  to  Reason 389 

Come  now,  and  let  us  reason  together,  saith  the  Lord.— Isaiah,  i.  18. 

XXII.  Christ's  Gracious  Invitation 399 

Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy-laden,  and  1  will  give  you 
rest.— Matt.,  xi.  28. 

XXIII.  The  Necessity  of  Regeneration 408 

Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  him  :  Verily,  Verily,  I  say  unto  thee,  Ex- 
cept a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God.— John, 
iii.  3. 

XXIV.  The  Helpless  Depravity  of  Man 417 

Who  can  bring  a  clean  thing  out  of  an  unclean  ?    Not  one. — Job,  xiv.  4. 

XXY.  The  Ministry  of  the  Gospel 424 

And  I  was  with  you  in  weakness,  and  in  fear,  and  in  much  trembling. 
—1  Cor.,  ii.  3. 

XXYI.  Influence  of  Evil  Spirits 438 

When  the  unclean  spirit  is  gone  out  of  a  man,  he  walketh  through  dry 
places  seeking  rest,  and  finding  none  he  saith,  I  will  return  unto  my 
house  whence  I  came  out.  And  when  he  cometh  he  findeth  it 
swept  and  garnished.  Then  goeth  he  and  taketh  to  him  seven  other 
spirits  more  wicked  than  himself:  and  they  enter  in  and  dwell  there; 
and  the  last  stite  of  that  man  is  worse  than  the  first. — Luke,  xi.  24-26. 

XXVII.  The  Final  and  Universal  Triumph  of  the  Gospel 467 

And  I  saw  another  angel  fly  in  the  midst  of  heaven,  having  the  everlast- 
ing Gospel  to  preach  unto  them  that  dwell  on  the  earth,  and  to 
every  nation,  and  kindred,  and  tongue,  and  people. — Kev.,  xiv.  6. 

XXVIII.  Christ  "^'eeping  Over  Jerusalem 473 

And  when  he  was  come  near  he  beheld  the  city,  and  wept  over  it,  say- 
ing. If  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou,  at  least  in  this  thy  day,  the  things 
which  belong  unto  thy  peace!  but  now  they  are  hid  from  thine 
eyes.— Luke,  xix.  41,  42. 

XXIX.  Ambassadors  for  Christ 4!iJ 

Now  then  we  are  ambassadors  fur  Christ,  as  though  God  did  beseech 
you  by  us:  we  pray  you  In  Christ's  stead,  be  ye  reconciled  to  Ood. 
~2  CoE.,  v.  20. 


LIFE  AND   OHAHACTER 


PiEY.  LEWIS    WARJ^EPt    GREM,  D.D. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Dan^'ILLE,  1806—1824. 


Birth. — Parentage. — Early  Education. — Maternal  Influence. — Orphanage. — 
Judge  John  Green. — Schools  and  Teachers. — Studies  at  Dr.  Le^is  Mar- 
shall's.— Classical  Attainments. — Conversion  and  Profession  of  Religion, 
— Dangerous  Illness. — Recovery — Deep  Religious  Impressions. — Tran- 
sylvania University. — Centre  College. — Graduation. — Fondness  for  Philo- 
sophical Investigation. 

LEWIS  WARXER  GREEN",  of  whose  life  and  labors  it  is 
proposed  to  give  an  outline,  introductory  to  a  volume  of 
his  posthumous  discourses,  was  bom  on  the  28th  of  January, 
1806,  in  a  midland  countj^  of  Kentucky,  near  the  tOAvn  of  Dan- 
ville. He  was  the  twelfth  and  youngest  child  of  Willis  Green 
and  Sarah  Reed,  who  were  married  at  that  place  in  the  year 
1783,  while  Kentucky  was  yet  an  almost  unbroken  wilderness 
and  the  few  settlers  about  Danville  still  dwelt  in  rude  forts. 
This,  it  is  said,  was  the  first  Christian  marriage  ever  solemnized 
on  Kentucky  soil.  Both  parents  were  of  Scotch-Irish  descent. 
They  were  born  and  reared  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley  of  Vir- 
ginia, where  their  ancestors  had  long  resided,  closely  connected 
by  marriage  with  some  of  the  most  prominent  families  of  the 
State. 

1 


2  PAREiJ^TAGE. 

His  mother,  Sarah  Keed,  was  the  daughter  of  John  Reed,  a 
man  of  fine  personal  appearance  and  of  superior  intellectual 
and  moral  endowments.  At  an  advanced  age  Mr.  Reed  removed 
with  his  family  of  ten  children  from  his  home  on  the  Shenan- 
doah to  the  vicinity  of  Danville.  He  was,  in  fact,  one  of  the 
early  pioneers  of  the  place,  and  left,  at  his  death,  a  family  highly 
distinguished  for  intelligence,  social  position,  and  moral  worth 
— his  six  daughters  being  all  remarkable  for  personal  beauty, 
and  his  eldest  son,  Thomas  Reed,  rising  to  political  eminence 
as  a  senator  in  Congress  from  the  State  of  Mississippi. 

His  father,  Willis  Green,  was  the  son  of  Dufi"  Green,  and 
grandson  of  Robert  Green,  who  had  been  one  of  the  early  set- 
lers  of  the  Shenandoah  Valley.  Willis  Green,  when  quite  a 
yonng  man,  catcliing  the  spirit  of  adventure,  left  his  paternal 
home  in  the  Mother  State  to  try  his  fortunes  at  the  West. 
Having  obtained  contracts  to  locate  land  warrants  in  Kentucky, 
he  set  out  with  his  surveyor's  commission  and  instruments, 
and  plunged  at  once  into  the  pathless  forest.  Arriving,  at 
length,  in  the  region  of  Danville,  he  selected  a  beautiful  sweep 
of  land  adjoining  the  farm  of  the  old  fort,  which  he  cleared  and 
named  "  Wavelaiid,"  from  its  gentle  undulations.  Here,  meet- 
ing and  marrying  Sarah  Reed,  he  settled  down  for  life  and 
built  the  family  homestead.  Here  his  twelve  children  were 
born.  And  here,  also,  he  died  at  the  age  of  fifty-one,  after  a 
w^ell-spent  life,  during  which  he  had  served  in  the  Legislature 
of  the  State,  and  filled  other  important  civil  oflSces.  He  was  a 
man  of  tried  integrity  and  practical  wisdom,  w^hose  Christian 
principles  and  rugged  virtues  were  powerfully  felt  in  the  new 
and  forming  society  around  him. 

Of  this  sterling  Christian  stock,  and  under  these  circum- 
stances, so  auspicious  for  the  development  of  a  noble  charac- 
ter, the  subject  of  this  memoir  was  born,  and  here  he  received 
his  earliest  im.pressions.  He  was  the  child  of  faith  and  prayer. 
From  his  infancy  he  was  devoted  by  his  Christian  mother  to 
the  work  of  the  ministry.  Upon  this  child  of  promise,  this  son 
of  her  declining  years,  the  very  Benjamin  of  her  heart,  she 
lavished  the  whole  wealth  of  her  stronor  and  lovincr  nature. 


PARE.NTAGE.  3 

Gently,  prayerfully,  and  hopefully  did  she  perform  the  faithful 
motiier's  part  and  sow  tlie  seeds  of  instruction  and  sacred  in- 
fluence in  the  young  heart.  During  the  few  years  she  was 
spared  to  him  she  lost  no  opportunity  of  impressing  his  open- 
ing mind  with  a  sense  of  religious  things,  thus  early  leading  him 
along  that  path  which  he  was  afterward  to  tread,  and  prepar- 
ing him  for  that  career  he  was  destined  to  illumine  by  a  life  of 
consecration  to  God. 

But  her  instructions  were  of  short  duration.  When  but  five 
years  old  he  was  deprived  of  a  father's  care ;  and  at  seven  this 
loving,  faithful  mother  was  also  summoned  to  the  skies.  It  was 
not,  however,  until  her  life-work  of  lasting  impressions  had  been 
successfully  accomplished  on  his  young  and  plastic  heart.  Her 
own  life  was  a  beautiful  illustration  of  the  truth  she  souoriit  to 
inculcate  and  its  lessons  were  not  soon  lost  upon  the  thought- 
ful child.  Her  death  wrung  his  heart  with  anguish.  But  her 
sweetness  of  temper,  her  j^atience  under  suffering,  her  unmur- 
muring resignation  to  the  will  of  God  were  indelibly  engraven 
on  his  memory.  Like  seeds  in  genial  soil,  they  sprang  up  and 
bore  fruits  in  subsequent  years.  To  her  death  he  was  accus- 
tomed, through  life,  to  trace  back  his  first  serious  impressions 
on  religion.  The  saintly  influence  of  her  character  lingered  in 
his  memory  as  that  of  some  tender  and  sympathizing  guardian 
angel.  To  that  influence,  and  to  the.seeds  sown  by  her  faithful 
hand,  during  the  first  seven  years  of  his  existence,  he  never 
failed  to  attribute,  under  God,  whatever  fruit  of  good  or  of 
usefulness  his  subsequent  years  may  have  borne. 

Seldom  ha^  a  mother's  influence  over  a  son,  though  brief  in 
its  opportunity,  been  more  signally  crowned  with  blessings 
after  she  was  gone.  It  is  another  added  to  the  many  examples  of 
that  living  power  which  flows  from  a  faithful  mother's  influence, 
and  shows  how  God  answers  prayer  and  rewards  faithful  toil 
long  after  the  heart  has  ceased  to  pray  and  the  hands  to  labor. 
In  the  toils  and  conflicts  of  life,  amid  the  darke;U  hours  of 
doubt  and  temptation,  he  loved  to  think  of  her  as  some  blessed 
visitor  from  heaven,  who  had  been  permitted  to  smile  upon 
him  for  a  few  brief  years,  as  if  to  allure  to  that  better  world 


4  EARLY   EDUCATIOX. 

and  lead  the  way.  From  every  struggle  with  the  tempter,  and 
from  every  scene  of  discouragement  and  trial,  he  arose  with  a 
stronger  confidence  in  his  mother's  God  and  a  warmer  love  for 
that  faith  which  he  had  first  learned  at  a  mother's  knee. 

His  early  orphanage,  depriving  him  of  both  parents,  threw 
him  into  the  family  of  liis  oldest  brother.  Judge  John  Green, 
who  became  his  guardian.  He  was  a  gentleman  of  high  character 
adorned  by  many  noble  virtues ;  and  he  felt  the  kindly  interest 
of  a  father  in  the  education  of  the  orphan  brother  now  committed 
to  his  care.  Though  in  later  years  Judge  Green  became  a 
devoted  Christian — two  of  his  own  sons  afterward  entering  the 
ministry — his  views  at  that  time  were  somewhat  tinctured  with 
the  prevailing  skepticism  of  the  period.  About  the  opening  of 
this  century  a  phase  of  unbelief,  originally  imported  from 
France  and  indorsed  by  Mr.  Jefferson  and  other  prominent 
statesmen,  had  taken  strong  hold  upon  many  of  the  educated 
minds  of  our  countiy,  particularly  in  Virginia  and  Kentucky. 
Religion  found  fe\y  advocates  among  the  more  elevated  classes. 
Still,  there  were  some  shining  examples  of  evangelical  piety. 
Conspicuous  among  these  was  the  wife  of  Judge  Green.  She 
was  a 'lady  of  rare  accomplishments,  both  of  mind  and  manners, 
and  of  the  most  lovely  Christian  character.  In  her  own  house- 
hold and  in  the  social  circles  around  her  she  threw  the  whole 
weight  of  her  influence  on  the  side  of  evangelical  religion,  and 
used  all  the  means  within  her  power  to  check  the  prevaiUng 
worldliness  and  ungodliness  of  the  times.  Dr.  David  I*^elson, 
who,  in  subsequent  years,  became  pastor  of  the  church  of 
Danville,  remarked  of  her,  that  she  had  i^robably  done  more 
than  any  other  person  in  Kentucky  to  stem  the  current  of  in- 
fidelity and  irreligion  and  to  mould  the  society  at  Danville  into 
that  evangelical  character  for  which  it  became  distinguished. 

Into  this  home  of  refinement  and  cultui-e,  presided  over  and 
adorned  by  so  much  that  was  attractive  in  })iety  and  womanly 
influences, the  orphaned  boy  was  now  brought;  and  here  he 
spent  the  greater  part  of  his  youth.  While  there  was  much  to 
develop  and  stimulate  his  opening  mental  faculties  in  the  as- 
sociations and  companionships  of  such  a  family,  there  was  not 


SCHOOLS  AND  TEACHERS.  5 

'v\'anting  that  gentle  guiding  hand  of  Christian  love,  which 
might  take  up  the  work  where  his  mother's  hand  had  left  it, 
and  carry  forward  the  religious  traininoj  which  had  been  so  well 
begmi.  In  this  noble  Christian  lady  he  found  a  friend  and  his 
second  religious  teacher.  To  her  example  and  influence  he  was 
indebted  for  many  of  the  elements  and  impressions  that  entered 
into  the  formation  of  his  character  and  at  last  prepared  him  for 
the  great  work  of  life.  If  she  had  done  no  more,  this  alone 
would  have  been  an  object  worth  living  for— that  from  her 
home  circle,  and  through  her  humble  yet  potential  influence, 
had  been  given  to  the  church  three  ministers  to  preach  the  Gos- 
pel of  God. 

As  a  child  his  manners  were  singularly  shy  among  older 
people.  His  serious,  thoughtful  turn  of  mind  would  have  very 
much  isolated  him  from  his  young  and  more  boisterous  com- 
panions, but  for  another  characteristic  equally  strong — his  fond- 
ness for  out-door  sports  and  the  exuberant  joy  which  he  felt  when 
partaking  of  them  with  his  boyish  associates.  An  enthusiastic 
love  for  books,  amounting  almost  to  a  passion,  developed  itself 
very  early.  At  an  age  much  younger  than  is  common  with 
boys,  he  acquired  a  knowledge  of  the  Latin  and  Greek  languages, 
read  Vii'gil  and  Homer  in  the  original  with  delight,  and  became 
as  familiar  with  thefr  scenes  and  heroes  as  with  the  things  of 
every-day  life.  He  had  the  advantage  of  a  thorough  drilling 
in  these  tongues  under  the  instructions  of  Mr.  Duncan  F- 
Robertson  and  Mr.  Joshua  Fry,  two  of  the  most  famous  teach- 
ers and  scholars  in  that  part  of  the  country.  No  boy  of  his 
years,  probably,  ever  studied  the  Greek  and  Roman  classics 
with  a  keener  relish  or  a  higher  ardor.  He  lived  in  the  world 
created  by  their  genius,  caught  the  inspiration  of  their  great 
thoughts  and  the  glow  of  their  sublime  imagery,  fought  over 
their  battles,  mingled  in  their  sports,  sailed  over  seas  and 
stormed  cities  with  their  heroes,  kindled  with  the  eloquence 
of  their  orators  and  sages,  and  felt  his  whole  soul  dilated,  re- 
fined, and  ennobled  by  the  high  and  loving  communion. 

When  thirteen  years  of  age,  with  his  brother  AVillis,  a  boy 
of  fine  promise,  two  years  older  than  himself,  he  entered  a  clas- 


6  CLASSICAL   ATTAIiTMENTS. 

sical  school  at  Buck  Pond,  in  Woodford  County,  Kentucky, 
taught  at  that  time  by  Mr.  W.  R.  Thompson,  at  the  residence 
of  Dr.  Lewis  Marshall,  in  whose  family  the  boys  boarded,  and 
afterward  by  Dr.  Marshall  himself.  This  was  regarded  as  the 
best  classical  academy  then  in  Kentucky.  Here  were  educated 
many  of  the  men  who  afterAvard  rose  to  the  highest  distinc- 
tion in  the  State.  Among  all  the  young  and  brilliant  minds 
here  gathered  from  different  quarters,  and  brought  into  daily 
contact  for  the  purpose  of  instruction  under  the  eye  of  these 
accomplished  linguists,  none  appeared  to  greater  adyantage  for 
natiye  talent,  and  all  those  traits  of  character  which  boys 
admire  in  each  other,  than  the  brothers  Willis  and  Lewis 
Green.  The  latter  was  pronounced  by  Dr.  Marshall  one  of 
the  finest  classical  scholars  who  had  ever  been  under  his  tuition. 
His  natural  quickness,  his  ardent  love  of  study,  and  his 
thorough  training  by  his  former  teachers.  Fry  and  Robertson, 
enabled  him  to  sustain  himself  with  ease  in  classes  composed 
of  boys  much  older  than  himself.  In  his  eager  pursuit  of  clas- 
sical knowledge,  and  in  hearty  appreciation  of  its  beauty  and 
power,  he  was  the  noblest  Roman  of  them  all. 

With  unabated  ardor  he  pursued  these  studies  about  two 
years  at  Dr.  Marshall's,  finding  in  Mrs.  Marshall  another 
warm-hearted  and  devoted  Christian  friend  and  counsellor, 
who  felt  a  deep  interest  in  his  welfare,  and  cherished  for  him 
a  strong  attachment  through  life.  During  these  years  his 
progress  in  study  was  rapid  and  satisfactory.  But  during  this 
time  two  events  occurred,  which  probably,  more  than  mere 
intellectual  growth  or  attainments,  contributed  their  influence 
to  future  years  in  the  formation  of  his  character  and  the  shap- 
ing of  his  destiny. 

The  latter  part  of  the  first  of  these  years  was  marked  as  a 
period  of  religious  awakening  in  the  school  and  through  the 
neighborhood.  Quite  a  number  of  the  pupils  and  others  be- 
came deeply  interested  in  the  matter  of  their  salvation,  gave 
satisfactory  evidence  of  conversion,  and  made  a  public  profes- 
sion of  their  faith  in  Christ.  Among  these  were  both  Willis 
and  Lewis  Green.     Tbey  were  baptized  and  received  into  the 


PROFESSION   OF  RELIGION.  7 

comraunion  of  the  Pisgah  Church  in  March,  1820,  the  one 
being  then  about  fourteen  and  the  other  about  sixteen  years 
old. 

During  the  second  year  of  their  stay  at  Dr.  Marshall's  a 
malignant  fever  made  its  appearance  in  the  school,  and  raged 
for  a  season  with  great  ^nolence.  The  two  brothers  fell  under 
its  power,  and  soon  became  dangerously  sick.  After  a  brief 
illness,  Willis  breathed  his  young  spirit  into  the  bosom  of  the 
Saviour  he  had  loved  and  trusted.  The  younger  brother,  after 
a  hard  struggle  for  life,  protracted  through  weeks  of  suffer- 
ing, at  last  rallied  sufficiently  to  be  carried  home  to  Waveland. 

Here,  however,  a  relapse  ensued,  and  again  there  seemed  little 
hope  of  his  recovery.  But  the  disease  was  at  length  subdued. 
Through  a  convalescence  of  months  he  came  up  slowly  from 
the  gates  of  death.  Not  in  vain  for  him  had  been  that  long 
gaze  into  the  grave,  that  calm  scrutiny  of  himself  in  the  light 
of  eternity.  Xot  in  vain  was  the  loss  of  that  gifted  brother, 
so  endeared  to  him  by  nearness  of  age,  similarity  of  taste,  and 
close  companionship  in  the  sports,  the  studies,  and  the  experi- 
ences of  childhood.  The  impressions  made  upon  him  were  as 
deep  and  lasting  as  life.  Loud  and  distinct  now  sounded  that 
call  to  the  Gospel  ministry  which  had  rung  in  his  ear  ever  since 
he  had  knelt  at  his  mother's  knee,  and  learned  from  her  sainted 
lips  to  cry,  "Our  Father."  But  the  preparation  w^as  not  yet 
complete.  Other  trials  and  deeper  experiences  awaited  him. 
A  fuller  insight  into  his  own  unworthiness,  clearer  views  of 
Christ  and  his  all-sufficiency,  were  needed  before  entering  on 
the  vocatioti  to  which  he  aspired  with  such  awed  and  trem- 
bling expectancy. 

His  health  being  at  last  restored,  he  was  sent  to  the 
Transylvania  University,  in  Lexington,  Kentucky,  then  under 
the  administration  of  Dr.  Horace  Holley.  After  completing 
the  studies  of  the  junior  year  in  this  institution,  he  was  trans- 
ferred to  Centre  College  in  Danville,  then  just  organized  by 
the  Presbyterians  of  Kentucky,  and  placed  under  the  presi- 
dency of  Dr.  Jeremiah  Chamberlain.  The  reason  for  this 
ciiange  was  that  the  Presbyterians  of  the  State,  becoming  dip- 


8  COLLEGE   STUDIES. 

palisfied  with  the  infidel  principles  of  Dr.  Holley,  had  with- 
drawn their  support  from  Transjdvania,  and  determined  to 
build  up  an  institution  at  Danville.  Here  he  spent  bis  senior 
year;  and  having  now  completed  a  full  collegiate  course,  he 
graduated  with  the  first  class  of  Centre  College  in  1824,  at 
the  age  of  eighteen. 

An  insatiable  thirst  for  knowledge  and  love  of  reading  led 
him  into  paths  of  both  philosophical  and  classical  study  not 
often  trodden  by  youthful  students.  Every  thing  having  a 
connection  with  the  subject  of  his  studies,  or  in  any  way 
throwing  light  upon  them,  was  read  voraciously,  and  incorpo- 
rated with  his  accumulating  stock  of  knowledge.  The  study 
of  the  human  mind,  its  structure  and  capabilities,  possessed 
from  boyhood  a  wonderful  charm  for  him.  To  the  close  of 
life  he  pursued  these  investigations.  With  the  single  excep- 
tion of  the  contemplation  of  God's  revealed  truth,  he  believed 
there  could  be  no  higher  and  nobler  emj^loyment  of  our  facul- 
ties than  in  the  study  of  the  human  mind.  While  still  a 
college  student,  the  writings  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  sages 
were  perused  by  him  with  the  ardor  of  discipleship.  By  this 
early  and  familiar  contact  with  the  acute  and  powerful  thinkers 
of  other  ages,  a  living  energy  of  thought  was  infused  into  his 
mind,  which  marked  all  his  public  discourses.  The  reader  of 
the  sermons  in  this  volume  cannot  fail  to  see  how  full  his  mind 
was  of  images  of  beauty  and  sublimity,  and  how  rich  in 
treasures  of  wisdom  and  philosophy  derived  from  the  inex- 
haustible store-house  of  classical  antiquity. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Daxville  axd  Peincetox,  1824 — 1832. 

Clioice  of  a  Profession. — Deep  Experiences. — Conflicting  Plans  and  Purposes. 
— Becomes  a  Student  of  Law. — Then  of  Medicine. — Settles  on  a  Farm. — 
Impediment  of  Speech. — His  Marriage. — Death  of  his  "Wife. — A  Final 
Decision. — Preparation  for  the  Ministry. — Studies  at  Yale  College. — 
At  the  Theological  Seminary  in  Princeton. — Recollections  of  Dr.  Board- 
man. — Testimony  of  Dr.  Judkin. 

The  time  for  a  decision  as  to  his  great  life-work  was  now 
drawing  near.  With  the  young  man  no  problem  is  more  im- 
portant, and  at  times  more  perplexing.  Thus  far  he  had  been 
sedulously  disciplining  his  mental  powers,  and  treasuring  up, 
against  the  day  of  need,  that  elementary  knowledge  which 
was  to  give  edge  and  temper  to  the  weapons  of  life's  warfare. 
But  at  the  same  time,  the  spiritual  part  of  his  nature  was  under- 
going a  deeper  and  far  more  important  discipline.  Though  con- 
verted at  an  early  age,  his  faith  was  subjected  to  almost  every 
form  of  assault  devised  by  the  great  adversary  of  souls  for 
their  destruction ;  but  from  each  dark  abyss  of  doubt  and  de- 
spair into  which  he  was  plunged,  it  emerged  brighter  and 
stronger,  and  with  a  firmer  grasp  upon  the  Rock  of  Ages. 

The  wisdom  of  God,  in  suft'ering  him  to  pass  through  this 
fiery  ordeal,  he  recognized  in  subsequent  years,  when  called  to 
administer  consolation  to  others  in  similar  trials.  His  experi- 
ence in  these  spiritual  conflicts  had  given  him  wonderful  sym- 
pathy and  patience  with  those  who,  harassed  with  doubts  and 
tormented  with  fears,  hesitate  to  receive  without  question  the 
faith  of  their  fathers.  With  an  awed  and  subdued  sense  of  his 
great  deliverance,  he  acknowledged  the  divine  goodness  and 
mercy  which  preserved  him  from  making  shipwreck  of  the 
faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints.  And  thenceforward  it  be- 
1* 


10  CHOICE   OF  A   PROFESSION. 

came,  not  only  the  most  powerful,  but  the  most  vital  and  real 
of  all  realities  to  him. 

He  was  now  emancipated  from  the  doubts  and  anxieties  that 
had  long  tortured  him,  and  his  freed  soul  had  found  perfect 
rest  and  peace  in  the  assurance  that  he  was  a  child  of  God ; 
that  Christ  was  indeed  very  God,  and  that  the  Scriptures  con- 
tained the  sure  and  infjUlible  truth  of  God  on  all  the  deep 
questions  of  man's  nature,  duty,  and  destiny. 

But  the  hour  for  the  choice  of  a  profession  brought  with  it 
temptation  and  trial  in  a  new  form.  A  purpose  which  had 
been  maturing  with  each  year  of  his  life,  from  the  early  period 
at  which  he  began  to  reflect,  and  which  no  degree  of  gloom  or 
despondency  could  long  unsettle,  now  developed  into  a  burn- 
ing desire  to  preach  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ.  He 
was  the  centre,  however,  of  far  difterent  hopes  and  expecta- 
tions. His  determination  to  commence  at  once  his  preparation 
for  the  duties  of  the  ministry  met  with  persistent  discourage- 
ment. The  Bar  and  the  Senate  had  attracted  most  of  the  tal- 
ent of  the  State.  Among  worldly  people  no  other  position  was 
considered  a  fit  theatre  for  young  men  with  abilities  above  the 
ordinary  range.  Some  of  his  nearest  relatives,  at  that  time  un- 
connected with  the  church,  shared  largely  in  this  prejudice 
against  the  pulpit,  and  exerted  all  their  influence  to  dissuade 
him  from  his  purpose. 

On  a  former  occasion,  while  the  brothers  were  yet  little  boys 
at  school,  the  remark  had  been  made  to  some  of  the  ladies  of 
the  family,  "  I  Avant  you  to  understand,  that  you  may  take 
Lewis  and  make  what  you  please  of  him  :  as  for  Willis  he  is 
entirely  too  smart  to  be  turned  into  a  preacher."  "When,  how- 
ever, in  a  few  brief  years,  the  favorite,  and  as  was  then  sup- 
posed more  gifted  boy,  thus  destined  to  worldly  distinction, 
after  giving  his  testimony  to  redeeming  love,  was  called  away 
to  a  better  world,  the  purpose  was  then  formed  for  the  remain- 
ing brother,  that  no  reproach  of  the  cross  should  bar  his  road 
to  fame.  Every  argument  that  could  be  adduced  from  his  ex- 
treme youth  and  inexperience  of  the  world,  and  from  the  illu- 
sory character  of  things  unseen  and  spiritual,  was  employed  to 


LAW  AND   MEDICINE.  11 

shake  the  purpose  which  Lewis  had  so  long  clierished,  and  was 
now  ready  to  put  into  execution.  He  too,  it  was  thought,  had 
talents  too  bright  to  be  wasted  upon  the  visionary  work  of  the 
pulpit. 

For  a  moment  he  yielded  to  the  persuasive  voices  which 
whispered  to  liim  of  fame  and  fortune  and  gratified  ambition. 
In  deference  to  the  counsel  of  friends  he  loved,  and  of  Iiis 
young  companions  in  study,  he  concluded  to  prepare  for  the  legal 
profession.  He  entered  the  office  of  his  brother,  Judge  Green, 
and  applied  himself  to  the  study  of  law  with  the  assiduity 
which  characterized  all  his  pursuits.  But  he  soon  found  that 
his  heart  was  not  in  the  matter.  Conscience  upbraided  him  as 
one  who  was  flying  from  duty.  His  soul  was  a  constant  prey 
to  unrest.  Unable  to  prosecute  a  profession  which  had  become 
thoroughly  distasteful  to  him,  in  little  less  than  a  year  he  aban- 
doned the  law,  and  commenced  the  study  of  medicine  with  Dr. 
Ephraim  McDowell  at  Danville.  If  he  might  not  enter  the 
race  for  distinction,  here  was  at  least  a  road  to  usefulness.  But 
from  this  also  he  soon  turned  in  utter  weariness.  He  felt  that 
it  was  not  his  vocation.  His  heart  was  not  in  it.  He  could 
not  pursue  it  with  enthusiasja.  His  soul  had  been  smitten 
with  the  early  love  of  a  nobler  mission,  and  could  not  be  satis- 
fied with  the  husks  of  earthly  pursuits,  while  hungering  for 
heavenly  sustenance.  It  was  not  that  other  pursuits  were  un- 
important. It  was  not  that  the  loftiest  Christian  virtues  might 
not  adorn  all  honorable  secular  occupations.  But  his  mind  had 
long  been  filled  with  a  great  purpose,  and  he  could  not  rest 
till  it  Was  accomplished.  The  remembrance  of  his  early  dedi- 
cation by  his  mother,  God's  providential  dealings  with  himself 
and  those  around  him,  and  his  growing  convictions  of  duty 
obtained  the  mastery.  "  Woe  is  me  if  I  preach  not  the  Gos- 
pel I" — this  became  the  burden  of  his  life. 

There  was  one  circumstance  in  his  personal  history  which 
must  be  mentioned  in  connection  with  his  difficulties  as  to  the 
choice  of  a  profession.  For  this,  probably,  as  much  as  any  op- 
position or  discouragement  he  encountered  from  others,  con- 
tributed to  his  indecision  at  this  time.     When  a  little  fellow, 


1 2  MARRIAGE. 

just  learning  to  talk,  he  was  accustomed  to  amuse  himself  by 
mimicking  a  nurse,  who  stammered  dreadfully,  until  the  per- 
nicious habit  became  fixed.  It  does  not  seem  to  have  costliim 
much  uneasiness,  until  he  began  seriously  to  think  of  a  profes- 
sion, when  he  was  overwhelmed  with  a  sense  of  his  misfortune. 
He  at  once  appHed  himself  to  the  reparation  of  the  evil,  with 
a  determination  which  successive  and  most  mortifying  failures 
could  not  conquer  nor  discourage.  And  although  each  fresh 
effort  seemed  to  leave  his  utterance  only  the  more  hopelessly 
defective,  the  conviction  that  he  could  and  would  overcome  it 
was  abiding.  No  remedy  was  left  untried,  yet  with  hardly  a 
gleam  of  improvement.  When  excited  by  debate  in  the  rival 
societies  at  school  or  college,  the  hesitntion  would  disappear, 
and  his  fluency  on  such  occasions  is  said  to  have  been  remark- 
able. But  the  shghtest  confusion  or  embarrassment  would 
almost  deprive  him  of  the  power  of  speech.  His  first  public 
effort  is  said  to  have  been  painful  in  the  extreme,  both  to  him- 
self and  to  the  friendly  audience  he  attempted  to  address.  He 
rushed  from  the  house  in  an  agony  of  shame,  and  few  who 
witnessed  that  painful  exhibition  were  so  sanguine  as  to  hope 
that  those  stammering  lips  would  yet  open  in  streams  of  fervid 
eloquence.  Distressed  but  not  disheartened  by  this  mortify- 
ing failure,  he  persevered  until  his  efforts  at  elocution  were 
crowned  with  complete  success.  But  he  was  ever  after  ex- 
tremely sensitive  on  the  subject,  so  much  so,  that  no  member 
of  his  immediate  family  ever  ventured  an  allusion  to  it. 

In  February,  1827,  he  was  married  to  Miss  Eliza  J.  Mont- 
gomery, daughter  of  the  Hon.  Thomas  Montgomery,  of  Lincoln 
County,  Kentucky.  She  was  a  young  lady  of  piety  and  excel- 
lence, and  great  loveliness,  to  whom  he  had  been  attached  for 
several  years.  She  was  already  in  an  advanced  stage  of  con- 
sumption, and  knew  that  her  days  were  numbered,  but  she 
yielded  to  his  desire  that  the  rite  might  be  performed  which 
would  give  him  the  privilege  of  ministering  to  her  steadily 
declining  health.  After  his  marriage  he  settled  upon  a  part  of 
his  paternal  farm,  and  abandoning  every  object  that  had  hith- 
erto engaged  his  thoughts,  devoted  himself  to  soothing  her 


STUDIES  FOR   THE   MINISTRY.  13 

passage  tbroiigh  the  dark  valley.  She  lingered  a  little  longer 
than  two  years,  and  expired  with  the  words  upon  her  lips: 
"Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  and  all  that  is  within  me  bless  His 
holy  name." 

Her  death  revived,  in  all  their  force,  convictions  of  duty 
that  had  for  a  time  been  lulled  into  repose.  Powerless  now 
were  the  arts  of  the  tempter,  in  vain  his  cunning  devices  to 
induce  any  further  delay  in  the  fulfilling  of  resolutions  already 
too  long  deferred.  God  had  led  him,  now,  for  the  second  time 
through  the  deep  waters  of  affliction,  and  he  came  out  chas- 
tened and  refined  by  the  sorrow.  He  recognized  the  hand  of 
God,  he  heard  the  distinct  call  of  his  Providence,  and  he  was 
ready  for  the  consecration.  His  deep  sense  of  unAvorthiness  fur 
the  awful  trust  of  the  ministry,  the  probable  estrangement  of 
friends,  the  embarrassment  that  might  arise  from  his  impeded 
utterance,  all  yielded  to  the  superior  claims  of  duty,  and  he 
went  forward  under  the  guidance  of  an  all-wise  Providence, 
with  that  calm  unquestioning  faith  which  ever  afterward  en- 
abled him  to  commit  every  interest,  whether  of  this  world  or 
the  next,  without  reserve  to  Him  who  careth  for  us.  He  deter- 
mined now  finally  and  fully  to^  forego  all  prospects  of  worldly 
distinction,  ease,  and  affluence,  and  to  give  his  life  to  the  Gospel 
ministry. 

In  accordance  with  this  decision,  he  entered  the  Theological 
Seminary  at  Princeton,  'New  Jersey,  in  the  year  1831,  and  de- 
voted himself  with  his  accustomed  ardor  to  the  prescribed 
studies  of  the  course.  Before  entering  the  seminary  at  Prince- 
ton, however,  he  silent  some  time  at  Yale  College,  giving  his 
attention  to  the  study  of  the  Hebrew  language,  and  such  other 
departments  as  had  a  special  reference  to  his  preparation  for 
the  ministry.  He  studied  at  Princeton  through  one  session  and 
part  of  the  second,  but  did  not  remain  to  complete  the  course, 
in  consequence  of  an  urgent  call  from  Kentucky.  One  of  his 
classmates  at  Princeton,  Dr.  Henry  A.  Board  man,  referring  to 
the  period  in  which  they  were  thus  thrown  together,  speaks  of 
him  in  the  following  terms  : — 

"  I  recall  him  as  a  man  of  genial  temper,  and  frank,  cordial 


14  TESTIMOXIAL   OF   DR.    BOAUDMAX. 

manners,  of  recognized  and  ve;y  marked  aLility,  a  ready  and 
effective  speaker,  in  no  sense  a  cipher,  but  an  earnest  true 
Clirisiian  man,  who  could  not  fail,  if  spared,  to  make  his  influence 
widely  and  beneficently  felt  in  after  years.  His  rare  gifts 
commanded  the  highest  respect  of  his  fellow-students;  and 
those  of  us  who  knew  him  well,  cherished  him  as  a  friend  worth 
having.  It  was  a  matter  of  regret  with  me  that  I  had  no  oppor- 
tunities of  renewing  my  intercourse  with  this  admirable  man 
after  we  parted  at  Princeton.  He  deserves  to  be  held  in  remem- 
brance by  the  church." 

An  idea  of  his  character  and  bearing  at  tliis  period  may  be 
gained  from  the  testimony  of  Dr.  David  X.  Junkin,  who  was 
also  his  fellow-student :  "  In  the  seminary,  Mr.  Green  assumed 
at  once  the  position  of  a  student,  and  in  his  class  that  of  a  man 
of  mark.  He  was  regular  in  attendance,  and  his  recitations 
were  always  thorough,  evidencing  careful  study.  In  the 
«  Oratory'  exercises  he  was  distinguished  as  a  thinker  and 
writer  of  superior  promise.  He  grasped  old  thoughts  with  a 
fresh  and  original  hold,  and  bore  the  reputation  of  an  inde- 
pendent original  thinker.  The  tone  of  his  piety  was  decided, 
and  his  conduct  always  dignified  and  consistent.  If  in  his 
piety  there  was  less  of  heat  and  enthusiasm,  there  was  more 
that  was  the  result  of  fixed,  matured,  heartfelt  conscience- 
controlling  principle.  His  prayers  in  the  social  meetings  were 
characterized  by  much  humility :  he  seemed  to  prostrate  him- 
self before  his  God.  In  social  life  he  was  genial,  dignified,  and 
attractive ;  although  at  first,  and  to  strangers,  there  might 
seem  in  his  manner  a  slis^ht  deo-ree  oi  hauteur.  This,  however, 
was  the  result  of  a  bearing  natively  or  habitually  dignified : 
for  he  was  one  of  the  finest  gentlemen,  in  his  social  manners, 
with  whom  I  have  ever  met.  There  was  in  the  expression  of 
his  countenance  a  lofty  benignity,  and  in  the  2^ose  of  his  tall, 
erect,  and  slender  form,  an  unconscious  dignity,  that  at  once 
arrested  attention." 

"  In  the  social  circle,"  continues  Dr.  Junkin,  "  he  was  pecu- 
liarly interesting.  His  genial  manner,  his  rich  conversational 
powers,  his  sprightly,  yet  barbless  wit,  his  stores  of  informa- 


TESTIMONY  OF  DR.  JUNKIN.  15 

tioD,  his  original  way  of  jiutting  things,  and  withal  his  entire 
freedom  from  the  frailty  of  monopolizing  conversation,  made 
him  one  of  the  most  agreeable  companions  with  whom  it  has 
ever  been  my  privilege  to  visit  or  to  travel.  I  esteemed  him 
one  of  the  best  preachers  of  my  contemporaries  in  the  seminary. 
There  was  at  the  beginning  of  his  sermon  a  slight  indication 
of  impediment  of  speech,  but  it  soon  disappeared ;  and  he  pro- 
ceeded, slowly  at  first,  but  warming  with  his  subject,  until 
often  a  torrent  of  eloquence  was  poured  forth.  His  tall,  erect 
form,  his  long  arms  and  slender  fingers,  and  his  fine  command- 
ing /)0S6',  all  combined  to  make  his  attitudes  and  gestures, 
while  speaking,  impressive  and  effective.  His  style,  like  that 
of  most  extempore  preachers,  had  a  tendency  to  the  diff'use, 
but  never,  when  I  heard  him,  to  such  an  extent  as  to  impair 
its  vigor  and  eloquence.  He  was  a  noble  man — a  fine  specimen 
of  the  hisfh-toned,  dio-nified,  Christian  orentleman." 


CHAPTEK  III. 
Danville,  1832—1840. 

Opening  Tears  of  his  Ministry. — Licensure  and  Ordination. — Professorship  in 
Centre  College. — Anecdote. — PunctuaUty. — Skill  in  Teaching. — Style  of 
Preaching. — Second  Marriage. — Voyage  to  Europe. — Studies  and  Attain- 
ments Abroad. — Travels  and  Acquaintance. — Return  to  Danville — Call  to 
Shelbyville  declined. — Professorship  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  South 
Hanover. — Professorship  and  Vice-Presidency  in  Centre  College. — Presi- 
dency of  Transylvania  University  declined. — Colleague  Pastor  at  Danville. 
— Emancipation. 

Iisr  August,  1831,  Mr.  Green,  while  pursuing  his  studies  at 
the  East,  was  elected  Professor  of  Greek  in  Centre  College. 
This  appointment,  which,  if  accepted,  would  have  cut  short  his 
theological  course,  he  thought  it  best  to  decline.  But  a  year 
later,  August,  1832,  he  was  elected  Professor  of  Belles  Lettres 
and  Political  Economy  in  the  same  institution.  This  second 
call  from  his  Alma  Mater,  he  accepted.  He  had  not  completed 
the  full  course,  as  intended,  at  Princeton;  but  the  position 
offered  him  was  one  which,  while  opening  an  important  sphere 
of  usefulness,  would  also  enable  him  to  pursue  his  theological 
studies  to  advantage. 

After  a  year  spent  in  this  double  occupation,  he  was  licensed 
to  preach  the  Gospel  by  the  Presbytery  of  Transylvania,  at 
Harmony  Church,  Garrard  County,  Kentucky,  October  4th, 
1833.  He  was  ordained  to  the  full  work  of  the  ministry,  by  the 
same  Presbytery,  at  the  same  place,  October  6th,  1838.  IS'ot 
having  accepted  any  pastoral  charge,  and  having  been  absent 
in  Europe  nearly  half  the  time  since  his  licensure,  while  the 
other  part  had  been  devoted  to  teaching,  he  was  not  ordained 
until  the  latter  date,  and  only  a  short  time  before  his  election 
to  a  professorship  at  South  Hanover.     This  portion  of  his  life, 


PKOFESSORSHIP  IN   CENTRE   COLLEGE.  17 

from  1832  to  1840,  interesting  in  its  bearing  upon  his  subse- 
quent career,  must  now  be  more  fully  described. 

On  leaving  tlie  seminary  at  Princeton,  in  1832,  the  young 
Professor  of  Belles  Lettres  and  Political  Economy  entered  at 
once  upon  the  duties  of  his  department.  It  was  a  position 
well  suited  to  liis  tastes  and  studies.  lie  threw  into  it  the 
whole  energy  and  enthusiasm  of  youth,  and  soon  became  one 
of  the  most  popular  and  successful  instructors  ever  connected 
with  the  institutron.  He  possessed,  in  an  eminent  degree,  that 
scholarly  ardor  Avhicli  wins  the  admiration  of  young  men,  and 
that  courteous  urbanity  of  manner  which  attracts  them  to  the 
high-toned  gentleman  ;  and  with  an  unusual  facility  in  impart- 
ing what  he  knew  to  others,  he  made  tlie  work  of  instruction 
as  agreeable  as  it  was  important.  The  impressions  made  upon 
his  pupils  were  as  lasting  as  life.  They  all  became  his  friends. 
Few  teachers,  if  indeed  any,  have  ever  been  more  admired,  and 
more  warmly  loved.  One  of  his  pupils  at  this  period,  Dr.  W. 
W.  Hill,  of  the  Bellewood  Academy,  now  widely  known  him- 
self as  an  accomplislied  teacher,  wiiting  after  his  death,  bears 
the  following  testimony  to  his  excellence,  which  doubtless  ex- 
presses the  estimate  of  many  others  :  "  My  acquaintance  with 
Dr.  Green  commenced  just  thirty  years  ago.  I  was  then  a  boy 
at  college,  and  he  was  a  teacher.  He  very  soon  v»'()n  my  heart. 
I  saw,  boy  as  I  was,  that  he  was  a  high-minded,  honorable,  and 
true-hearted  man,  whom  it  was  safe  to  confide  in,  and  about 
whom  there  was  no  sham.  My  views  of  him  never  changed; 
I  have  always  said  that  he  was  the  second-best  teacher  I  ever 
sat  under.  -Dr.  Addison  Alexander  I  always  ranked  first,  and 
Dr.  L.  W.  Green  second;  and  you  will  better  appreciate  the 
compliment  Avhen  you  remember  that  such  men  as  Dr.  A.  Alex- 
ander, Dr.  Miller,  Drs.  John  and  William  Breckinridge,  Dr. 
Young,  and  Dr.  Hodge  were  among  my  highly  honored  teach- 
ers." 

An  anecdote  is  related  which  will  serve  to  illustrate  the 
prompt  punctuality  of  the  young  professor.  He  insisted  on 
absolute  punctuality  on  the  part  of  his  pupils,  and  made  it  a 
point  of  honor  and  duty  never  to  be  behind  time  himself.     On 


18  SKILL  IN   TEACHIXa. 

one  occasion,  having  a  distance  of  several  miles  to  go,  and  hav- 
ing been  necessarily  detained,  he  found  he  had  barely  time, 
though  on  horseback,  to  reach  the  college  bi^fore  his  hour  of 
recitation.  Before  starting  he  had  loosely  slipped  forty  dollars 
into  his  pocket.  On  nearing  the  place,  he  discovered  that  in 
his  rapid  ri  le  tiie  money  had  dropped  out,  and  he  knew  that 
it  must  be  lying  somewhere  on  the  public  road  ;  but  rather  than 
go  back  and  be  behind  time  with  his  class,  he  determined  to 
meet  them  promptly  at  the  hour,  go  on  with  his  recitation,  and 
look  for  the  money  afterward.  When  lie  returned  it  was  gone; 
but  he  felt  that  punctuality  was  worth  more  than  forty  dollars, 
and  he  could  better  aiford  to  lose  the  money  than  to  lose  his 
prestige  of  professional  promptness. 

Thorough,  accurate,  nnd  systematic  in  his  own  studies? 
rigidly  conscientious  in  the  discharge  of  every  duty,  and  feeling 
that  whatever  was  worth  doing  at  all  was  worth  doinij:  well, 
he  was  just  the  man  to  give  to  his  class-room  tlie  pretdsion  of 
a  military  drill,  and  to  make  his  pupils  feel  that  study  meant 
work.  He  knew  how  to  be  gentle,  nnd  how  to  be  severe. 
There  was  every  thing  to  encourage,  to  stimulate,  to  inspire 
boys  who  could  be  moved  by  the  love  of  knowledge  and  of 
moral  excellence.  But  for  the  idle,  the  careless,  the  vicious, 
he  had  no  place;  and  when  he  found  that  they  could  neither 
be  stimulated  by  good  counsel  nor  won  by  love,  his  policy 
through  life  was,  to  send  them,  home  to  their  parents. 

His  duties  as  a  college  professor  did  not,  however,  altogether 
supersede  ministerial  work;  he  loved  to  preacli,  anrl  felt  that 
this  was  his  highest  function.  He  preached  almost  every 
Sabbath,  sometimes  in  Danville  and  its  vicinity,  and  sometimes 
in  distant  parts  of  the  State.  His  preaching  was  from  the 
first  distinguished  by  many  of  those  characteristics  which  at  a 
later  period  were  very  strikingly  developed.  A  fervid  eloquence, 
a  whole-hearted  absorption  in  his  theme,  and  a  sort  of  electric 
influence  over  his  auditory  marked  all  his  pulpit  performances. 
He  carried  an  earnestness  of  spirit  into  all  his  efforts,  a  direct- 
ness of  application  in  all  his  arguments  and  appeals,  which  gave 
to  truth  a  cutting  power,  and  could  not  fail  to  arouse  the  alten- 


STYLE   OF   PREACHING.  19 

tion  of  ev^en  the  most  lethargic  hearers.  The  young  preacher 
seemed  to  have  struck  upon  a  new  vein,  to  have  found  a  new 
path,  and  to  have  swung  himself  loose  from  much  of  the  dry 
routine,  the  dead  formality,  and  the  stiff  con  von  ti(mal  common- 
places of  the  pulpit.  Thoroughly  master  of  his  subject  in  all 
its  bearings,  kindling  with  emotion  as  he  advanced,  his  diction 
teeming  with  images  of  sublimity  and  beauty,  he  poured  out 
things  new  and  old  from  the  treasure-house  of  his  well-furnished 
mind,  while  every  sermon  seemed  but  the  spontaneous  outburst 
of  thought  and  feeling.  The  fire  thus  kindled  was  quickly 
communicated  to  his  hearers ;  the  attention  was  fixed,  the 
imagination  excited,  the  conscience  aroused,  the  heart  melted 
and  subdued,  under  a  style  of  preaching  which  at  once 
fed  tlie  mind  with  knowledge,  and  attracted  it  by  the  charm 
of  a  true  pathos.  It  was  the  fire  of  passion  ;  but  at  the  same 
time  it  was  the  sober  reasoning  of  the  coolest  logic. 

From  the  commencement  of  his  ministry  he  seems  to  have 
adopted  the  extemporaneous  delivery,  and  he  adhered  to  it 
through  life.  But  his  matter  was  always  the  result  of  careful 
preparation.  It  is  evident  from  the  dates  of  his  extant  manu- 
scripts, tliat  almost  all  the  writing  of  sermons  he  performed  dur- 
ing life  was  the  product  of  the  first  ten  years  of  his  ministry, 
though  he  rarely  used  notes  of  any  description  in  preach- 
ing, even  during  this  early  period.  In  subsequent  years  his 
sermons  were  almost  exclusively  the  result  of  a  purely  medi- 
tative process.  His  command  of  language  was  very  perfect; 
his  mind  teemed  with  thought  and  imagery  ;  and  he  had  no 
difticulty  in  recalling  in  perfect  order  any  train  of  thought  he 
had  elaborated  in  the  study.  This  rare  power  gave  to  his  ser- 
mons at  once  the  exactness  of  written  composition  and  the 
graceful  freedom  of  extemporaneous  speeches. 

In  April,  1834,  he  was  again  married,  taking  as  his  life's  com- 
panion Mrs.  Mary  Lawrence,  daughter  of  Mr.  Thomas  AValker 
Fry,  of  Spring  House,  Kentucky, — a  lady  eminently  qualified 
by  education  and  natural  endowments  to  sympathize  fully  in 
all  his  plans  of  study  and  contribute  to  his  usefulness  and  suc- 
cess in  life.     Later  in  the  same  year,  a  purpose  which  had  been 


20  MARRIAGE   AXD   VOYAGE   TO   EUROPE. 

for  some  time  maturing  was  also  carried  into  execution.  For 
some  time  past  he  had  been  anxious  to  avail  himself  of  the 
libraiies  and  theological  lectures  of  the  great  German  univer- 
sities. Impelled  by  his  early  and  unabated  tliirst  for  knowl- 
edge, and  eager  to  obtain  a  wide  and  thorough  cultivation  of 
his  powers  for  the  work  of  life,  he  longed  lo  stand  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  great  scholars  of  Europe,  to  sit  for  a  few  years  as  a 
disciple  at  their  feet,  and  to  drink  in  the  inspiration  of  theo- 
logical truth  at  the  very  fountain-head  of  genius  and  learning. 
The  young  professor  and  the  popular  preacher  would  be  all  the 
better  furnished  to  train  the  rising  youth  of  Kentucky  and  to 
plead  the  cause  of  classical  education  and  Gospel  truth  in  the 
West,  after  he  had  visited  these  seats  of  wisdom  and  held  con- 
verse with  the  mighty  masters  there. 

Accordingly,  leave  of  absence  for  two  years  from  the  college 
being  granted  with  that  view,  he  sailed  from  'New  York  in 
August,  accompanied  by  his  wife,  and  after  a  voyage  of  three 
weeks  in  a  sailing  vessel,  arrived  at  Liverpool  on  the  15th  of 
September. 

While  abroad,  he  devoted  himself  with  special  interest  to 
those  branches  of  knowledge  which  had  a  direct  bearing  on  the 
chosen  work  of  his  life,  which  would  best  prepare  him  to  be  an 
effective  preacher  and  an  accomplished  instructor  of  the  young. 
Religion  and  education  were  the  two  poles  on  which  every 
tiling  revolved.  Biblical  and  Oriental  literature,  archaeology, 
theological  and  historical  science,  the  French  and  German  lan- 
guages, with  the  wide  range  of  general  literature  and  natural 
science,  formed  the  subjects  of  his  daily  reading  and  of  his  pro- 
found investigations.  He  attended  the  lectures  of  the  leading 
scholars  at  the  German  universities  and  formed  a  personal  ac- 
quaintance with  JSTeander,  Tholuck,  Gesenius,  Flengstenberg, 
Ullman,  and  others.  While  in  England,  he  visited,  with  Mrs. 
Gi-een,  the  great  universities  and  a  number  of  ancient  towns 
and  castles,  spending  about  two  weeks  in  London.  He  then 
went  directly  to  Berlin,  where  he  spent  the  first  winter,  attend- 
ing the  lectures  of  Keander  and' Hengstenberg.  On  leaving 
this  country  he  had  taken  letters  of  introduction  from  Henry 


RETURN   TO   AMERICA.  21 

Cl.'iy,  Dr.  Charles  Hodge,  and  other  prominent  gentlemen  well 
known  abroad,  and  going  as  a  professor  from  an  American  col- 
lege, and  at  the  same  time  accompanied  by  his  wife,  he  found 
easy  access  to  the  best  circles  of  Berlin.  Their  sojourn, 
in  a  social  point  of  view,  even  aside  from  its  advantages  for 
study,  was  exceedingly  pleasant.  They  visited  on  friendly 
terms,  or  met  at  social  gatherings,  many  of  the  most  distin- 
guished persons,  the  Baron  De  La  Motte  Fouque,  Baron  Alex- 
ander Yon  Humboldt,  Roediger,  Schultze,  Yon  Weltzien, 
Wilke,  Professor  and  Chief  Justice  Yon  Gerlach,  the  Yon 
Blankenberg  family,  and  others ;  from  a  number  of  whom,  on 
coming  away,  they  received  in  German  or  English,  tokens  of 
regard  in  brief  notes  and  letters,  which  have  ever  since  been 
preserved  in  the  family  as  pleasant  mementoes  of  the  visit. 

The  summer  vacation  was  spent  in  travelling  through  the 
south  of  Germany  and  Switzerland  ;  and,  being  provided  with 
letters  from  their  Berlin  friends,  they  found  everywhere  an 
open  door,  with  much  to  see  and  enjoy.  The  second  winter 
was  spent  in  Halle,  where  he  pursued  his  studies  under  Tholuck, 
Ullmann,  and  Gesenius,  forming  an  intimate  acquaintance  with 
the  first.  From  Halle  he  went  to  Bonn,  and  gave  special  at- 
tention to  the  study  of  Arabic,  Syriac,  and  Chaldaic,  under  the 
instruction  of  distinguished  Oriental  scholars.  But,  after  some 
months,  Mrs.  Green's  health  declined  and  they  thought  it  best 
to  return.  They  came  through  Belgium,  and  spent  six  weeks 
in  Paris. 

From  the  various  letters  and  other  memoranda  of  this  pleasant 
sojourn  in  Germany  we  take  a  single  paragraph  as  illustrating 
the  affectionate  regnrd  in  wliich  Professor  Green  and  his  wile 
were  held  by  their  German  friends.  It  is  from  the  pen  of  the 
learned  and  evangeli(;al  Dr.  Tholuck,  with  whom  he  kept  up  a 
correspondence  after  coming  home,  and  is  in  a  letter  addressed 
to  him  in  December,  1835,  on  hearing  that,  instead  of  going 
back  to  Halle  to  resume  his  studies  there,  as  was  his  intention, 
he  had  decided  to  return  to  America  : — 

"  Dearest  Friend  :  How  mueli  liave  I  been  longing  for  news  from  you 
"^'e  are  not  accustomed  to  speak  out  our  feelings  here  so  fully,  else  you  would 


22  EESUMES  HIS  PROFESSORSHIP. 

hare  been  convinced  that  there  dwells  in  my  heart  a  -warm  and  sincere  friend- 
ship for  you,  such  as  is  not  felt  for  many  of  your  countrymen.  For  this  reason 
it  M'as  the  more  painful  to  me  to  learn  that  you  would  return  to  us  no  more. 
"With  much  sympathy  do  I  hear  of  the  new  aflflictions  to  which  the  Lord  has 
subjected  you,  and  of  the  apprehensions  you  feel  concerning  your  wife.  You 
wiU  do  me  a  great  pleasure  if  you  will  let  me  hear  from  Paris  or  America  in 
regard  to  yourself  and  your  beloved  wife.  To  our  friend,  Dr.  Hodge,  bear 
with  you  across  the  sea  the  salutation  of  my  constant  and  sincerest  love,  and 
you  yourself  will  be  accompanied  by  my  prayers.  You  are  an  Israelite  with- 
out guile,  and  as  such  I  shall  always  bear  you  in  my  heart.  This  spiritual 
communion  we  have,  unhappily,  much  too  seldom  enjoyed.  I  remain  forever 
yours,  united  with  you  in  the  Lord.  "  A.  Tholuck." 

After  about  two  years  spent  abroad,  during  which  he  had 
made  large  accessions  to  his  theological  and  literary  stores,  ho 
returned  and  resumed  the  duties  of  his  professorship  at  Dan- 
ville. He  was  now  an  accomplished  linguist,  surpassed  by  few 
of  his  years  hi  this  country,  an  educator  in  full  sympathy  with 
his  work,  and  eager  to  raise  the  standard  of  classical  and  col- 
legiate education  at  the  West.  His  quickness  and  facility  in 
the  acquisition  of  learning,  his  unwearied  industry,  and  his 
enthusiastic  ardor  in  study  had  all  conspired  to  bring  him  a 
full  return  for  the  time  spent  abroad.  He  had  seen  much, 
thought  much,  learned  much,  in  the  two  years,  and  he  returned 
laden  with  rich  fruits.  Above  all,  he  returned  uncontaminated 
with  that  subtle  and  pretentious  infidelity  and  rationalism  with 
which  he  had  been  in  such  close  contact  in  Germany.  His  ob- 
servation there  had  but  served  to  strengthen  the  grace  of  God 
that  was  in  him  and  to  intensify  his  love  for  all  the  old  evan- 
gelical doctrines  of  the  cross. 

His  professional  duties  at  Danville  were  agreeable  and  ac- 
ceptable ;  but  other  fields  of  usefulness  opened  around  him.  In 
the  fall  of  1837,  having  spent  a  Sabbath  at  Shelby ville,  Ken- 
tucky, and  preached  in  the  Presbyterian  Church  of  that  place, 
he  was  invited  and  urgently  pressed  by  the  Session  to  be- 
come the  pastor.  But,  having  an  important  position  in  the 
college,  he  tiiought  it  best  to  remain  w^here  he  was,  although  a 
pastorate  had  many  attractions  for  him,  and  the  congregation  at 
Shelbyville  opened  a  wide  door  of  usefulfiess. 


CALL   TO   HANOVER.  23 

In  1838  he  was  elected  to  the  chuir  of  Oriental  and  Biblical 
Literature  in  the  Theological  Seminary,  at  that  time  connected 
with  the  college  at  South  Hanover,  Indiana,  and  afterward 
removed  to  New  Albany.  He  received  this  aj^pointmont  from 
the  Synod  of  Kentucky,  which  had  engaged  to  endow  a  pro- 
fessorship in  that  institution  in  concert  with  other  Synods,  north 
of  the  Ohio,  that  had  undertaken  to  found  and  sustain  the 
school.  This  seemed  to  be  a  position,  in  many  respects,  con- 
genial with  his  tastes  and  studies.  He  accordingly  accepted  it, 
uot  feeling  that  he  ought  to  decline  a  call  coming  thus  as  the 
voice  of  his  brethren  through  the  Synod.  Resigning  his  profes- 
sorship at  Centre  College,  and  leaving  his  family  at  Danville, 
he  repaired  to  South  Hanover,  and  entered  upon  the  duties 
of  his  chair  in  the  autumn  of  the  same  year.  Dr.  James  Blythe 
was  then  President  of  the  College,  and  Dr.  John  3Iatthews  his 
colleague  in  the  theological  department.  He  continued  at  his 
post  during  the  session,  hearing  two  recitations  a  day  in  Greek 
and  Hebrew  and  delivering  two  or  three  written  lectures  a 
week,  which,  with  preaching  on  the  Sabbath  as  opportunity 
offered,  gave  him,  as  he  expresses  it,  "  as  much  as  he  could  do 
well,  and  no  more."  In  a  letter  to  his  family,  written  soon  after 
he  went  to  Hanover,  he  mentions  an  amusing  incident :  "  On 
last  Sabbath  I  went  to  preach — knocked  down  the  pulpit  and 
fell  over  with  it.  Fortunately  it  was  quite  low  and  neither 
received  any  harm.  In  about  one  minute  all  was  right  again, 
and  I  went  on  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  I  am  getting  pretty 
well  under  way ;  the  students  are  coming  to  understand  my 
method  of-teaching,  and  to  value  it,  I  think.  The  devil  has 
made,  I  am  convinced,  a  special  attempt  to  destroy  me  since  I 
received  this  a]>pointment,  and  my  feet  had  well  nigh  slipped. 
But  I  hope  I  am  now  over  the  arts  of  the  adversary."  The  fall 
of  the  pulpit  some  interpreted  as  an  evil  omen — that  he  would 
tear  down  the  institution,  then  not  firmly  established.  But  it 
is  rather  to  be  taken  as  an  indication  of  the  lively  style  and 
energetic  delivery  of  the  young  preacher. 

His  connection  with  this  institution  was,  from  the  first, 
somewhat  of  the  nature  of  an  experiment.     It   was  doubtful 


24  RECALLED   TO   DAXVrLLE. 

whether  the  semm;iry,  greatly  in  need  of  fancls,  could  be  car- 
ried on  sucessfully,  at  least  in  its  present  location.  He  had  not 
been  long  at  Hanover  before  an  effort  was  made  by  inflnential 
gentlemen  at  Lexington,  Kentucky,  trustees  of  Transylvania 
University,  and  others,  to  induce  him  to  return  to  Kentucky 
and  accept  the  presidency  of  that  institution,  which  was  then 
vacant.  It  was  thought  by  these  gentlemen,  that  the  j)lacing 
of  him  at  the  head  of  the  university  would  be  the  means  of 
restoring  it  to  the  favor  of  its  original  friends  and  founders, 
the  Presbyterians,  and  of  thus  insuring  that  success  which  had 
been  wanting  since  the  time  of  Dr.  HoUey.  But  he  was  a 
loyal  alumnus  of  Centre  College,  too  long  identified  with  its 
welfare,  and  too  thorough-going  a  Presbyterian  withal,  to 
think  of  doing  any  thing  that  might  injure  the  rising  institution 
at  Danville,  around  which  tlie  Presbyterian  Church  of  the 
State  had  now  rallied.  After  some  personal  interviews,  and 
in  Jmswer  to  repeated  letters  on  the  subject,  he  said,  that  so 
long  as  there  was  any  prospect  of  the  success  of  the  seminary 
at  Hanover,  he  felt  it  to  be  his  duty  to  remain  in  that  position ; 
and  that  he  would  do  nothing  which  could  in  any  way  injure 
the  Presbyterian  Church  in  her  enterprise  at  Danville.  He, 
accordingly,  declined  the  appointment,  and  continued  through 
the  session  at  Hanover. 

In  the  spring  of  1839,  having  corapk^ted  the  duties  of  the 
term  at  Hanover,  he  was  recalled  to  Danville,  under  influences 
which  seemed  to  make  it  his  duty  to  return.  He  was  elected 
vice-president  of  Centre  College,  with  the  department  of 
Belles  Lettres  and  Political  Economy  under  his  control.  Dr. 
John  C.  Young  being  president,  lie  was  also  elected  Col- 
le.igue  Pastor,  with  Dr.  Young,  in  the  Presbyterian  Church  of 
Danville,  it  being  arranged  that  they  should  supj^ly  the  pulpit 
on  alternate  Sabbaths.  Here  a  wide  door  of  usefulness  opened 
before  him.  It  was  one  of  the  largest  and  most  influential 
congregations  in  the  State — a  congregation  that  had  been 
accustomed  to  the  eloquence  of  Drs.  Gideon  Blackburn,  David 
Nelson,  and  other  gifted  preachers. 

Stimulated  to  their  utmost  exertion  by  all  the  associations  of 


PULPIT   MTXISTRATIONS.  25 

the  place,  past  and  present,  surrounded  from  Sabbath  to  Sab- 
bath by  large  and  appreciative  audiences  who  bung  with  grow- 
ing interest  on  their  lips,  filled  with  high  professional  ardor, 
as  well  as  with  that  higher  inspiration  which  comes  from  a 
view  of  God's  glory  and  the  worth  of  souls,  these  compara- 
tively youthful  but  gifted  preachers  soon  rose  to  an  excellence 
and  effectiveness  of  pulpit  ministrations  not  often  surpassed, 
in  the  annals  of  the  Western  pulpit.  "  No  man,"  says  one  who 
knew  him  well,  "ever  entered  upon  the  peculiar  work  of 
preaching  the  Gospel  with  a  keener  ardor,  or  with  a  sublimer 
view  of  its  self-sacrificing  joys."  His  peculiar  temperament, 
his  well-discijjlined  mind,  his  far-reaching  sympathies,  his 
natural  gifts  of  oratory,  added  to  a  form  of  personal  piety  as 
remarkable  for  its  tenderness  as  for  its  stern  sense  of  duty, 
seemed  to  mark  him  out  for  the  successful  preacher  and  the 
laborious  sympathizing  pastor.  And  it  was- with  the  greatest 
possible  relish  that,  after  the  weekly  duties  of  the  lecture- 
room,  he  addressed  himself  to  the  Sabbath  work  of  preaching 
the  Gospel. 

We  may  form  an  idea  of  the  character  of  his  pulpit  minis- 
trations at  this  time  from  the  testimony  of  John  A.  Jacobs, 
Esq.,  of  Danville,  who  had  known  him  from  boyhood.  "Lips, 
which  in  youth  could  scarcely  utter  a  single  sentence  without 
the  most  painful  stammering,  poured  forth  for  many  years  a 
most  copious  stream,  sometimes  a  torrent,  of  thought,  now 
profound,  and  now  soaring  to  the  utmost  bounds  of  human 
imagination,  clothed  in  language  apt,  accurate,  ornate,  and 
sometimes  gorgeous  in  expression.  His  manners  were  affable 
and  kind  in  the  highest  degree,  though,  like  most  men  of  high 
genius,  he  was  susceptible  of  great  excitement,  and  liable  to 
occasional  waywardness.  It  was,  however,  the  efiervescence  of 
intellectual  fervor."  Taking  a  retrospect  of  his  whole  minis- 
terial and  educational  services  through  life,  and  associating  his 
name  with  his  co-laborers  on  the  same  field,  Drs.  Xelson  and 
Young,  Mr.  Jacobs  remarks :  "  The  AVest,  I  am  sure,  and,  in 
my  judgment,  the  whole  land,  has  not  produced  in  the  genera- 
tion that  is  now  almost  past,  three  greater  men.    Their  names. 


20  EMANCIPATION. 

memories,  and   services  ought   to  be  transmitted  to  distant 
posterity." 

Toward  the  close  of  this  period,  in  the  prospect  of  leaving 
Kentucky  to  settle  in  a  free  State,  Professor  Green  emancipated 
all  the  slaves  he  had  inherited  or  possessed  in  his  own  right. 
He  had  desired  to  do  this  some  time  before,  and  to  send  them 
to  Liberia  through  the  Colonization  Society,  but  they  were  un- 
willing to  go.  He  was  at  no  time  an  Abolitionist,  in  the  com- 
monly received  sense  of  the  term.  He  was,  on  the  contrary, 
decidedly  opposed  to  any  sudden  and  violent  abolition  from 
without.  Bat  he  was  an  early  and  warm  friend  of  the  colo- 
nization cause,  and  he  greatly  desired  to  see  Kentucky  relieved 
from  the  incubus  of  slavery,  and  the  condition  of  the  colored 
race  bettered  by  some  scheme  of  gradual  emancipation, 
originated  and  carried  forward  by  the  State  itself.  He  had, 
accordinglj^,  from  the  first,  sympathized  fully  in  the  view^s  of 
his  uncle.  Judge  Green,  Henry  Clay,  and  other  leading  men  of 
the  State,  who  organized  the  first  party  and  made  the  first 
movement  in  Kentucky  in  favor  of  emancipation.  Nothing 
would  have  delighted  him  more  than  to  see  his  native  State 
adopt  some  practical  plan  of  taking  her  place  among  the  free 
States.  And  so  strong  were  his  feelings  on  the  subject,  that 
unable  to  send  his  slaves  to  Africa,  and  unwilling  to  leave 
them  in  bondage,  he" emancipated  them  all  on  the  soil,  to  the 
number  of  twenty-five  or  thirty. 


;'  4 


CHAPTER  TV. 
Allegheny,  1840—1847. 

Election  to  a  Professorship  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Allegheny. — Testi- 
monial as  to  his  Ability. — His  Colleagues  in  the  Faculty. — Inaugural  Ad- 
dress.— German  Philosophy. — Growing  Reputation. — Literary  Addresses. 
— Lectures  on  Popery. — The  Title  of  Doctor  of  Divinity. — Standing 
and  Induence  as  a  Preacher  and  Instructor. — Various  Calls. — Testimoni- 
als from  Dr.  R,  L.  Breck. — From  Drs.  Wilson  and  Allison. — From  Dr. 
McGilL— From  Dr.  David  Elliott.— Seven  Years'  Work. 

In  May,  1840,  Mr.  Green  was  unanimously  elected  by  the 
General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  to  the  Profess- 
orship of  Oriental  Literature  and  Biblical  Criticism  in  the 
Western  Theological  Seminary,  at  Allegheny,  Pennsylvania. 
This  was  a  position,  for  which,  by  all  his  previous  studies  and 
attainments,  he  was  well  fitted,  though  at  the  time  but  little 
over  thirty-four  years  of  age.  Recognizing  it  as  the  call  of 
Divine  Providence  to  a  wide  and  inviting  field  of  usefulness,  in 
which  he  might  hope  to  spend  his  energies  with  best  advan- 
tage to  the  cliurch  and  her  rising  ministry,  he  accepted  the  ap- 
pointment, removed  with  his  fimiily  to  Allegheny,  and  entered 
upon  the  duties  of  his  office  at  the  opening  of  the  session  in  the 
autumn  of  the  same  year. 

It  will  serve  to  show  what  reputation  the  young  professor 
had  won  at  Danville  and  throughout  the  West,  to  present  here 
the  testimonial  of  one  of  his  contemporaries.  It  is  from  a  letter 
of  the  Hon.  C.  S.  Todd,  afterwai-d  United  States  Minister  to 
Russia,  written  at  Cincinnati,  under  date,  April  21,  1840,  ad- 
dressed to  Rev.  Dr.  David  Elliot  of  the  Allegheny  Seminary,  in 
reply  to  inquiries  as  to  the  character  and  qualifications  of  Mr. 
Green  to  supjdy  the  place  of  Dr.  Nevin  in  the  chair  of  Oriental 
Literature  in  that  institution.     "  I  seize  the  first  moment  to  say 


28  INAUGURAL    ADDRESS. 

to  you,  that  the  reputation  of  Mr.  Green  in  this  respect  is  emi- 
nently high.  He  has  been  professor  in  Centre  College  for  sev- 
eral years;  was  during  last  year  one  of  the  theological  profess- 
ors at  South  Hanover,  selected  by  the  Synod  of  Kentucky,  and 
was  for  several  years  at  one  of  the  universities  of  Germany. 
He  is  an  eloquent  divine  and  a  most  accomplished  scholar.  He 
is  now  adjunct  pastor  with  Dr.  Young  at  Danville,  and  a  pro- 
fessor in  the  college :  but  I  doubt  whether  he  would  be  induced 
to  change  his  location." 

His  associates  in  the  faculty  of  the  seminary,  during  the 
most  of  his  time  at  Allegheny,  were  Drs.  David  Elliott  and 
Alexander  J.  McGill.  His  work  here  called  into  exercise  all 
the  treasures  of  his  cultivated  intellect,  and  enlisted  the  deep- 
est and  holiest  feelings  of  his  heart.  And  for  the  next  seven 
years — till  his  resignation  and  retirement  in  1847 — he  gave 
himself  up  to  its  demands  with  unabated  ardor.  At  his  inau- 
guration in  1840,  he  delivered  an  address,  afterward  published, 
which  was  very  favorably  received,  not  only  by  the  commu- 
nity, but  by  the  Synod  of  Pittsburgh,  then  in  session  in  that 
city.  It  was  replete  with  sound  practical  views  on  the  subject 
of  Biblical  interpretation,  and  did  much  to  extend  his  reputa- 
tion through  the  church,  as  a  safe  interpreter  and  as  a  scholarly 
and  eloquent  writer. 

The  following  sentences  from  the  graceful  opening  of  that 
address  will  giv^e  the  reader  some  idea  of  the  unaffected  mod- 
esty of  the  man,  as  well  as  of  his  meetness  for  the  important 
work  to  which  the  voice  of  the  church  had  here  called  him : 
*' Though  not  altogether  unaccustomed  to  address  my  fellow- 
men  upon  subjects  even  of  the  deepest  and  most  momentous 
interest,  yet  the  novelty  of  my  position,  will,  I  hope,  excuse 
any  degree  of  embarrassment  which  may  be  apparent  on  the 
present  occasion.  Surrounded  by  faces  entirely  new  to  me  ; 
invited  by  your  kind  confidence,  while  yet  personally  unknown, 
to  occupy  an  important  and  responsible  situation  in  your  the- 
ological institution ;  though  yet  a  stranger,  welcomed  as  a 
brother  among  you,  I  should  do  uijustice  to  my  own  feelings, 
did  I  not  express  my  deep  sense  of  the  unmerited  kindness 


INAUGURAL   ADDRESS.  29 

wliich  has  called  me  hither,  of  the  weighty  obligations  I  am 
about  to  assume,  the  solemn  responsibilities  inseparable  from 
the  station  I  am  called  to  occupy,  and  my  own  dee[)ly  felt  and 
candidly  acknowledged  incompetency  for  the  full  and  adequate 
performance  of  all  the  arduous  duties  of  the  station.  Kor  can 
I  deem  it  inappropriate  to  the  occasion  to  express  before  the 
patrons  of  the  institution  my  views  of  the  nature  of  that  office 
— of  the  duties  it  enjoins — of  the  qualifications,  intellectual  aiid 
moral,  which  it  requires.  Not  as  though  I  had  attained,  or 
were  already  perfect,  or  even  expected  to  attain  the  iuU 
measure  of  those  large  and  various  qualifications  which  I  shall 
attempt  to  describe,  but  that  you  may  understand  what  are 
my  views  of  an  excellence  which  it  should  be  the  constant 
effort  of  the  Christian  theologian  to  attain,  and  toward  which 
every  student  of  theology  should  be  taught,  from  the  commence- 
ment to  the  termu)ation  of  his  course,  to  aspire  and  to 
struggle." 

In  this  masterly  address  he  takes  a  wide  survey  of  the  whole 
field  of  Biblical  interpretation,  showing  the  true  province  of 
reason,  the  relation  of  science  to  religion,  the  connection  of  Rev- 
elation with  the  works  of  God,  tlie  essential  qualifications  of  a 
true  expounder  of  the  Divine  AYord,  and  the  dangers  arising 
from  the  rationalistic  and  infidel  theories  of  the  German  theo- 
logians and  philosophers,  into  which  he  had  gained  so  clear  an 
insight  while  abroad.  And  he  closes  with  an  earnest  and  j^ow- 
erful  appeal  in  favor  of  a  new  and  native  American  exegesis, 
which,  while  using  the  results  of  German  investigation,  yet  in- 
dependent of  German  authority,  shall  be  founded  on  the  solid 
basis  of  a  pure  devotion,  a  sound  orthodoxy,  and  a  sober  Anglo- 
Saxon  common  sense.  The  key-note  of  his  argument  may  per- 
haps be  learned  from  the  following  suggestive  j^aragraph : — 

"The  transfusion  of  German  philosophy  and  exegesis  into  the  American 
mind  would  be  at  once  the  indication  and  the  cause  of  disease,  in  the  system 
so  transfused,  and  in  the  mind  which  had  stooped  to  be  its  passive  recipient. 
You  cannot  support  the  hfe  and  health  of  one  man  by  injecting  into  liis  circu- 
lation the  blood  of  another.  Tlie  foreign  ingredient  would  be  poison  and  fever 
to  his  system.     You  must  give  him  nourishment  and  let  his  own  digestion  sup- 


30  VARIOUS  CALLS. 

ply  vital  warmth,  sensibility,  motion.  And  as  every  man,  so  every  nation  has 
an  individuality  of  its  own,  and,  to  be  vigorous  and  healthy,  must  be  indepen- 
dent, self-nourished,  and  self-developed.  An  American  exegesis,  therefore, 
and,  as  founded  upon  and  supported  by  it,  an  American  theology,  are  as  clearly 
ind'cated  and  as  imperatively  demanded,  both  for  ourselves  and  for  the  world, 
by  the  pecuhar  circumstances  of  our  age  and  country,  as  an  American  general 
literature,  American  policy,  political  constitutions,  or  any  other  product  of 
that  novel  and  extraordinary  combination  of  political,  social,  intellectual,  and 
religious  elements,  which,  variously  operating  on  and  blending  with  each  other, 
at  once  signalize  and  constitute  American  character." 

The  number  of  students  in  the  seminary  was  small  and  his 
compensation  inadequate.  But  there  was  a  good  prospect  of 
increase,  and  the  work  was  one  in  w^hich  he  delighted,  especi- 
ally as  he  found  constant  occasions  for  the  exercise  of  his 
ministry  in  the  pulpits  of  the  city,  and  in  the  neighboring 
churches.  His  reputation  as  a  preacher  and  lecturer  rapidly 
rose,  and  went  abroad  through  the  country.  His  services  were 
in  such  demand  that  scarcely  a  Sabbath  found  him  unemployed. 
In  1840  he  received  the  honorary  title  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from 
his  Alma  Mater,  Centre  College.  In  1842  he  was  invited  to 
deliver  an  address  before  the  Literary  Societies  of  Jefferson 
College.  He  delivered  similar  addresses  in  subsequent  years 
at  La  Fayette  College,  Easton,  Pennsylvania,  and  at  the  Miami 
University  in  Oxford,  Ohio.  Through  his  whole  career  he 
w^as  called  on  for  many  services  of  this  kind,  which  he  rendered 
cheerfully  when  in  his  power  to  do  so.  In  1844  he  received 
an  urgent  request  from  the  Secretary  of  the  Board  of  Educa- 
tion, to  present  the  cause  of  ministerial  education  at  tlie  West, 
in  a  sermon  at  the  meeting  of  the  General  Assembly  in  Louis- 
ville, Kentucky,  that  year.  In  1845  he  received  from  Dr. 
William  S.  Potts,  of  St.  Louis,  an  urgent  overture  to  accept 
the  pastoral  oversight  of  a  new  church,  a  colony  from  his  own, 
just  formed  in  that  city.  But  this  proposition,  with  others  of 
the  same  kind,  he  declined,  on  the  ground  that  his  services 
were  needed  in  the  seminary,  and  that  he  could  not  leave  a 
position  to  which  God,  by  the  voice  of  his  Church,  had  called 
him. 

Between  the  occu2:>ations  of  the  study  and  the  lecture-room, 


PUBLIC  LECTURES.  31 

regular  preaching  at  home  and  calls  from  abroad,  Dr.  Green 
was  kept  incessantly  employed  during  all  the  year  at  Alle- 
gheny. This  activity  he  enjoyed.  During  this  period  his  mind 
became  deeply  interested  in  the  position  and  claims  of  the 
Papal  Church,  which  was  attracting  much  attention  at  the 
time,  and,  at  the  solicitation  of  prominent  gentlemen  in  Pitts- 
burgh, be  prepared  and  delivered  a  course  of  public  lectures  on 
Popery.  The  series  extended  to  six  in  number,  and  they  were 
delivered  in  weekly  succession,  partly  in  Dr.  Herron's  church 
and  partly  in  Dr.  Riddle's.  They  excited  an  interest  w^hich 
drew  increasing  crowds  to  the  end  of  the  course,  filling  the 
houses  to  their  utmost  capacity.  In  these  lectures  he  often 
spoke  from  an  hour  and  a  half  to  two  hours,  in  his  most 
animated  style,  pouring  out  the  treasured  results  of  his  read- 
ing and  reflection,  and  making  a  profound  impression  on  the 
public  mind.  *'  These  lectures,"  says  Dr.  Elliott,  "  delivered 
witliout  notes,  added  greatly  to  his  reputation  as  an  eloquent 
orator  and  a  skilful  controversialist ;  and,  although  they  were 
never  published,  the  impression  made  by  them  on  the  public 
mind  did  not  soon  pass  away."  He  afterward  preached 
before  the  Synod  on  the  same  subject.  The  newspapers  of  the 
city  gave  full  reports  of  the  lectures,  and  he  was  urged  by  his 
friends  to  write  them  out  and  publish  them,  but  no  vestige  of 
them  is  found  among  his  writings. 

The  following  interesting  account,  by  one  who  was  for  a 
short  time  under  his  instruction  as  a  pupil,  will  aid  us  in  form- 
ing an  estimate  of  his  character  and  influence  while  at  Alle- 
gheny.* 

"  Occasionallj  I  had  heard  Dr.  Green  preach  in  my  boyhood,  but  my  per- 
sonal acquaintance  with  him  began  in  1845,  when  I  became  a  student  in  tho 
Western  Theological  Seminary  at  Allegheny.  His  reputation  in  Kentucky  at- 
tracted a  number  of  students  from  that  State.  The  seminary  was  in  a  pros- 
perous condition,  and  of  the  young  men  then  gathered  there  a  number  have 
since  become  eminent  in  tho  church.  Dr.  Green  was  at  that  time  in  his  early 
prime,  and  perhaps  at  the  full  height  of  his  popularity  as  a  teacher  and  as  a 
preacher.     As  a  professor,  his  thorough  and  elegant  scholarship,  his  enthu- 

*  liev.  Eobert  L,  Breck,  D.D.,  ol  Eicbm-jnd,  K7. 


32  TESTIMONIALS. 

siasm  in  his  work,  his  high-toned,  serious  piety,  and  his  affectionate  interest 
in  the  personal  welfare  of  his  pupils,  commanded  the  highest  respect  and 
veneration  of  the  students.  He  was  subject  to  occasional  depressions  and 
disturbances  of  equanimity.  Sensitive,  impulsive,  transparent  in  his  feelings, 
imable  to  conceal  any  strong  emotion,  and  scrupulously  exact  in  his  notions 
of  honor,  he  sometimes  hastily  censured  with  severity  what  he  thought  un- 
becoming conduct,  and  sometimes  misjudged  acts  done  in  ignorance  or 
thoughtlessness,  rather  than  in  transgression  of  exact  rules  of  propriety. 
Issues  or  ruptures,  however,  were  not  frequent,  and  seldom  or  never  long 
continued,  as  his  own  kindliness  of  nature,  and  the  universal  esteem  enter- 
tained for  him,  were  too  great  for  them  to  last. 

"  In  the  class-room  he  was  interesting,  full,  and  sometimes  eloquent.  Being 
under  his  instruction  during  a  session,  afterward  a  student  at  Princeton,  and 
later,  in  my  more  mature  years,  admitted  to  renewed  intimacy  witli  him,  I  re- 
tain a  high  estimate  of  his  rare  learning  and  qualifications  as  a  teacher  of 
students  for  the  ministry.  As  a  linguist  he  had  few  equals  in  our  country. 
In  criticism  and  exegesis  he  excelled.  And  probably  no  American  scholar 
was  more  thoroughly  acquainted  with  every  phase  of  modern  metaphj'sical 
philosophy,  or  had,  with  more  acute  discrimination,  chased  down  infidelity 
through  the  different  philosophies  of  Continental  Europe.  At  the  time  of 
which  I  write,  the  doctor  did  notoften  preach.  When,  however,  it  was  known 
that  he  was  to  preach  for  any  of  the  pastors  of  Allegheny  or  Pittsburgh,  the 
house  was  generally  crowded  to  overflowing.  His  efforts  were  not  always 
equal.  But  he  sometimes  rose  to  the  highest  and  most  impressive  eloquence, 
which  those  who  ever  heard  him  in  one  of  his  happier  moods  wiU  never 
forget. 

"In  private  and  social  life  Dr.  Green  was  one  of  the  most  charming  of  men. 
Gentle,  affectionate,  playful,  brilliant,  he  won  the  heart  while  he  entertained. 
He  lived  at  this  time  some  three  miles  below  the  city,  on  the  bank  of  the 
Ohio,  where  he  dispensed  a  wide  and  elegant  hospitality.  The  tlite  of  both 
the  neighboring  cities  were  frequently  to  be  found  in  his  house.  In  the 
enjoyment  of  those  charming  assemblies  his  pupils  were  often  invited  to  par- 
ticipate. They  all,  no  doubt,  retain  most  agreeable  and  vivid  memories  of 
them.  Dr.  Green's  character  was  marked  by  the  simplest  and  most  unmis- 
takable piety.  And  this  gave  it  its  highest  charm.  No  one  probably  was 
ever  in  his  presence  an  hour  without  the  conviction  of  a  rare  spirituahty  and 
godliness  permeating  his  thought  and  hfe. " 

Another  of  his  former  pupils  at  Allegheny,  afterward  asso- 
ciated with  him  at  Hampden  Sidney,  and  now  of  Augusta, 
Georgia,  Doctor  Joseph  R.  Wilson,  gives  a  brief  estimate  of 
his  excellence  as  an  instructor,  a  preacher,  and  a  man,  in  the 
folio  win  Of  terms : — 


TESTIMONIALS.  33 

"It  was  my  good  fortune  to  enjoy  his  instructions  in  Hebrew,  and  in  New 
Testament  Greek  exegesis.  Surely  there  never  was  a  more  admirable  teacher. 
His  scholarship  was  as  profound  and  as  comprehensive  as  it  was  minute  and 
exact.  His  whole  method  of  imparting  knowledge,  his  skill  in  drawing  out 
the  utmost  resources  of  his  pupils,  his  enthusiasm  in  dealing  with  truth,  the 
impression  he  made  on  his  classes  of  an  equal  greatness  of  mind  and  heart,  his 
flowing  geniality,  mingled  with  all  the  elements  of  needful  authority,  rendered 
the  hours  of  recitation  wonderfully  pleasant  and  profitable.  Then,  when  ho 
mounted  the  pulpit,  that  mellow  voice,  elastic  enough  to  accommodate  itself  to 
all  the  demands  of  his  singular  oratory,  that  gesticulatory  warmth,  that  glitter 
of  illustration,  than  which  nothing  could  have  been  more  brilliant,  that 
patience  of  reasoning,  attended  by  an  appropriate  urgency  of  exhortation — all 
this,  and  much  that  cannot  be  described,  no  one,  who  heard  and  saw,  is  able 
to  forget.  Socially,  too,  he  was  a  great  favorite;  he  shone  in  conversation, 
and  enjoyed  good  company  almost  as  much  as  he  contributed  to  its  enjoyment. 
His  standing  at  Allegheny,  in  the  esteem  of  all,  was  as  high  as  possible.  He 
was  regarded  as  a  man  of  genius  and  a  man  of  God." 

We  have  an  interesting  account  of  Dr.  Green,  at  this  time, 
from  still  another  of  his  former  pupils,  Dr.  James  Allison, 
editor  of  the  Presbyterian  Banner^  who,  writing  from  Pitts- 
burgh, March  21,  1870,  says: — 

"  He  made  a  strong  impression  upon  all  with  whom  he  met,  as  a  scholar,  a 
thinker,  a  preacher,  and  a  genial  Christian  gentleman.  Immediately  after  he 
had  entered  upon  the  duties  of  his  professorship  in  Allegheny,  his  power  for 
good  began  to  be  recognized,  not  only  by  the  students,  but  also  by  the  minis- 
ters and  churches,  and  the  community  generally.  His  services  as  a  minister 
were  eagerly  sought  and  highly  appreciated  by  benevolent  societies,  by 
literary  institutions,  and  by  his  brethren  on  sacramental  occasions.  There  are 
many  still  Hving  in  this  city  and  vicinity  who  recall,  with  gratitude,  the  effect 
produced  on  them  by  his  powerful  sermons.  He  was  not  merely  a  preacher 
for  scholars,"  but  also  for  the  common  people.  "We  have  listened  to  him  in 
Providence  Hall,  at  Jefferson  CoUege,  when  professors,  students,  and  the 
people  who  earned  their  bread  by  the  daily  toil  of  their  hands,  heard  with 
breathless  attention,  and  were  alike  profited.  Wherever  he  went  to  preach, 
the  people  in  the  city  or  in  the  country,  among  the  polished  or  the  plain,  in 
great  crowds  attended.  In  a  wonderful  degree  he  had  the  faculty  of  address- 
ing the  understanding,  employing  the  reasonmg  powers  and  touching  the 
heart  at  the  same  time. 

"As  a  professor  in  the  seminary,"  continues  Dr.  Allison,  "he  will  never  be 
forgotten  by  his  students.  At  the  very  first  he  met  them  with  a  warm  grasp 
of  the  hand,  looked  them  in  the  face  with  a  kindly  eye,  and  made  them  feel 
2* 


34  TESTIMONIALS. 

that  he  was  their  friend.  He  was  not  satisfied  with  meeting  them  in  the  class- 
room, but  went  to  their  private  rooms,  talked  with  them  individually,  that  he 
might  learn  their  peculiarities  and  gain  their  confidence,  and  pray  with  them. 
He  sought  not  merely  to  cultivate  their  intellects,  but  also  to  train  their  hearts. 
He  seemed  to  consider,  and  rightly  too,  that  the  General  Assembly  appointed 
the  professors  in  the  theological  seminaries  to  be  instructors  in  sacred  learn- 
ing, and  also,  for  the  time,  the  pastors  of  the  students.  Earely  was  a  student 
at  the  seminary  more  than  ten  days  before  receiving  a  visit  from  Dr.  G-reen, 
which  he  ne\'er  forgot.  To  the  class-room  the  doctor  always  came  fuUy  pre- 
pared ;  and  he  expected  the  same  of  the  students.  With  the  indolent  he  had 
but  Uttle  patience ;  but  he  dehghted  to  encourage  the  studious.  In  the  Greek 
and  Hebrew  languages  he  was  a  master ;  and  he  employed  all  the  wealth  of 
this  learning  to  the  elucidation  of  the  Messianic  Psalms  and  Prophecies  in  the 
Old  Testament,  and  the  Epistles  to  the  Romans  and  Hebrews  in  the  New.  He 
held  up  to  our  astonished  vision  truths  and  beauties  we  had  never  seen  before. 
He  showed  us  how  to  enter  the  mine  of  Divine  truth,  explore  its  wonders  and 
mysteries,  and  gather  up  its  precious  treasures.  For  the  word  of  God  he  had 
the  profoundest  reverence ;  it  was  sufficient  for  him  to  know  that  a  doctrine 
or  duty  was  plainly  taught  in  the  Bible ;  and  then  he  accepted  it  with  the 
greatest  readiness  and  held  it  with  the  firmest  tenacity. 

"  He  fully  understood  the  teachings  of  the  German  Rationalists,  and  had 
sat  at  the  feet  of  some  of  the  greatest  of  them ;  but  he  rejected  their  doc- 
trines with  abhorrence.  He  could  not  endure  them.  In  interpreting  Scrip- 
ture he  was  an  independent  thinker,  and  followed  no  man  or  school  blindly. 
While  he  accepted  the  doctrinal  system  in  all  its  extent,  as  set  forth  by  Dr. 
Charles  Hodge  in  liis  Commentary  on  the  Romans,  he  by  no  means  agreed 
with  him  in  the  interpretation  of  every  passage,  and  believed  that  the  doctor 
did  not  do  justice  to  his  own  general  system  of  doctrine,  in  some  of  his  inter- 
pretations, while  he  at  the  same  time  failed  to  bring  out  the  full  meaning  of 
the  original  Greek.  While  in  the  Western  Theological  Seminary,  Dr.  Green 
had  also  charge  of  the  department  in  which  Butler's  Analogy  was  a  text-book. 
We  have  often  thought  that  his  great  powers  appeared  to  better  advantage 
here  than  anywhere  else.  The  keen  logic  and  scientific  knowledge  which  he 
brought  to  the  elucidation  of  that  celebrated  work  were  the  wonder  of  all 
who  listened.  His  lecture  on  the  first  chapter  I  have  always  considered  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  productions  to  which  it  has  ever  been  my  privilege  to 
listen.  Afterward,  at  the  request  of  the  late  Rev.  E.  P.  Swift,  D.D.,  the  Hon. 
R.  C.  Grier,  late  Judge  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  and  others, 
he  threw  this  lecture  into  a  popular  form,  expanded  it  considerably,  and  then 
delivered  it  in  a  series  of  sermons,  which  were  heard  by  vast  crowds  in  the 
First  Presbyterian  Church  of  Allegheny.  I  am  afraid  that  neither  the  lecture, 
nor  the  sermons  which  sprang  from  it,  were  ever  written.  If  this  should  bo 
so,  the  church  and  the  world  are  the  poorer  on  this  account." 


TESTIMONIALS.  35 

After  speaking  of  his  fine  historical  knowledge,  his  deep  inter- 
est in  all  the  great  movements  of  the  times,  and  of  the  profound 
impression  made  by  his  lectures  on  Romanism,  already  referred 
to,  Dr.  Allison  adds  : 

"  Nowhere  was  Dr.  Green  happier  than  in  the  social  circle,  to  which  he  was 
always  welcome.  He  enjoyed  the  society  of  his  friends,  and  they  delighted  in 
his  companionship.  He  could  he  mirthful  or  serious ;  could  listen  to  others  or 
entertain  others.  He  had  a  warm  heart  and  was  a  hater  of  all  meanness  and 
selfishness.  But  it  was  especially  when  in  the  company  of  theological  students 
that  his  fine  qualities  would  shine  out.  He  was  ever  ready  to  encourage  the 
timid,  to  gently  repress  the  self-sufficient,  to  impart  information  to  those  seeking 
it,  and  to  make  them  acquainted  with  books  and  men.  His  students  rever- 
enced him  as  a  professor  and  loved  him  as  a  friend.  When  he  left  to  become  a 
pastor  in  Baltimore,  it  was  felt  that  the  seminary,  the  church,  and  the  entire 
community  had  suffered  a  heavy  loss." 

Rev.  Dr.  Alexander  T.  McGill,  who  became  associated  as  a 
professor  with  him  in  the  seminary  in  1842,  says:  "I  was  won 
to  him  at  once  by  his  cordial  and  cultivated  manners.  Within 
the  first  hour  of  my  acquaintance  with  him  an  impression  was 
made  of  his  character  wdiich  was  never  changed  by  subsequent 
intimacy  of  observation  as  a  friend  and  colleague.  A  beaming 
intelligence,  transparent  candor,  and  impulsive  imagination  re- 
vealed the  man  just  as  I  knew  him  five  years  afterward  when 
we  parted,  and  just  as  I  remember  him  now  after  many  years 
and  many  comparisons  in  my  intercourse  w^ith  colleagues.  The 
perspicacious  mind  of  Dr.  Gi-een  saw  the  future  of  the  seminary 
more  brightly  at  that  time  than  any  other  man  connected  with 
its  interests.  If  his  patience  had  been  equal  to  his  foresight,  and 
he  could  have  brooked,  without  fretting,  the  delay  and  vexation 
through  which  any  institution  of  great  and  permanent  value 
must  rise  from  such  a  depth  of  discouragement,  he  would  have 
been  signalized  as  the  best  builder  that  seminary  has  ever  had 
among  men.  His  ability,  scholarship,  and  eloquence  were  un- 
questionable. His  afiability  and  radiating  kindness  of  heart, 
with  captivating  power  of  conversation,  everywhere  attracted 
men  and  won  the  attachment  of  students." 

After  referring  to  some  of  the  petty  annoyances  and  discour- 


36  TESTIMONIALS. 

agements  iDcident  to  bis  position,  which  weighed  heavily  on 
his  spirits  and  led  him  to  resign  a  professorship  ^vhich  iiiiglit 
have  been  one  of  life-long  eminence  and  usefulness  to  his  gener- 
ation, Dr.  McGill  adds :  "  He  was  not  appreciated  as  a  preacher 
among  the  rural  churches  as  he  was  in  the  cities,  owing  mainly 
to  the  academic  taste  which  had  never  been  governed  by  a  pas- 
toral experience  and  the  indiflerence  of  his  mind  to  prevailing 
forms  of  sermonizing.  His  vivid  imagination,  classical  allusions, 
and  impassioned  declamation  were  lost  at  times  on  people  ac- 
customed to  the  homiletic  measure  and  proportion  of  heads  and 
particulars,  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  pulpit  so  long  prev- 
alent in  that  Scotch-Irish  region.  I  have  never  ceased  to  regret 
the  retirement  of  Dr.  Green  from  Allegiieny,  and  the  consequent 
shifting  of  his  mind  to  other  and  miscellaneous  labor — no  more 
returning  to  the  department  he  was  so  peculiarly  fitted  to  fill  by 
'his  learning  and  genius  alike.  A  commentary  from  his  pen, 
having  the  sparkle  and  emotion  he  was  wont  to  combine  with 
sound  judgment  in  the  exegesis  of  God''s  word,  might  have  de- 
lighted the  church,  and  occupied  the  place  of  much  that  is 
dull  yet  salable  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  in  the  prolific 
fields  of  exposition.  His  memory  is  cherished  as  that  of  an 
honorable  colleague,  a  noble  friend,  an  able  and  faithful 
minister  of  Christ." 

In  further  illustration  of  his  influence,  character,  and  work 
while  at  Allegheny,  we  have  the  following  testimony  from  the 
pen  of  the  venerable  Dr.  David  Elliott,  who  was  one  of  his  col- 
leagues in  the  seminary  : — 

"In  liis  public  performances  Dr.  Green  was  very  unequal.  Sometimes  he 
was  eminently  forcible,  brilliant,  and  impressive,  carrying  his  audience  with 
him  in  rapt  attention.  At  other  times  he  failed  of  so  happy  a  result.  This 
was  owing  cliiefly  to  his  variable  bodily  temperament,  which  had  much  to  do 
with  his  mental  operations,  elevating  or  depressing  them  according  to  its 
peculiar  condition  at  the  time.  He  was  constitutionally  impulsive.  But  he 
was  a  man  of  generous  impulses — kind,  hberal,  a  lover  of  good  men  and  good 
things,  ever  ready  to  do  his  part  in  whatever  tended  to  advance  the  cause  of 
Christ  in  the  sphere  in  which  he  was  called  to  labor. 

"  In  his  intercourse  with  his  brethren  in  the  ministry  he  was  remarkably  cor- 
dial and  free  from  that  petty  jealout^y  by  which  some  men,  whose  aspirations 


SEVEN   TEARS'    WORK.  37 

all  centre  in  themselves,  are  led  to  disparage  the  character  and  standing  of 
others.  Upon  such  conduct  he  looked  with  perfect  loathing.  Ilis  character 
was  formed  on  the  higher  and  more  ennobling  principles  of  the  Gospel ;  and, 
as  a  Christian  minister,  he  was  deservedly  held  in  reputation.  As  a  professor 
he  had  a  well-stored  mind  and  great  readiness  in  communicating.  I  have 
good  reason  to  believe  that  he  was  a  skilful  and  acceptable  instructor.  His 
retirement  from  the  seminary,  which  he  had  so  faithfully  served  for  seven 
years,  was  greatly  regretted  by  the  friends  of  the  institution.  But  having 
received  a  call  from  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  city  of  Baltimore 
his  convictions  of  duty  led  him  to  accept  the  pastorate  of  that  church  and  to 
resign  his  professorship." 

Testimonials  like  the  foregoing,  from  his  colleagues,  pupils, 
and  others,  might  have  been  greatly  multiplied.  But  these  are 
sufficient  to  illustrate  the  character  of  the  teacher,  the  fidelity 
and  zeal  which  marked  his  labors,  and  the  lasting  and  blessed 
impressions  made  upon  the  successive  bands  of  young  men 
trained  under  his  instruction  at  Allegheny.  The  seven  years 
spent  in  this  high  and  sacred  work  of  Biblical  interpretation 
may  be  regarded  as  among  the  most  important  and  useful  of 
his  whole  life.  The  successive  classes  of  young  men  trained  in 
part  by  his  faithful  teaching  at  Allegheny  and  prepared  for 
their  great  life-work — some  of  them  filling  important  positions 
in  the  church,  some  in  distant  stations  preaching  Christ  to  the 
heathen,  and  some,  their  work  being  ended,  already  entered 
upon  their  rest  above — if  they  could  join  their  voices,  would, 
doubtless,  all  attest  the  singular  fidelity,  devotion,  skill,  and  earn- 
est zeal  of  the  beloved  instructor.  As  we  shall  now  follow  him, 
step  by  step,  through  his  subsequent  career — honorable  and  use- 
ful as  that  c^ireer  was — we  can  almost  sympathize  in  the  regret 
felt  by  his  colleagues  that  he  should  have  left  a  position  for 
which  he  was  so  nobly  furnished,  and  in  which  his  labors  had 
been  so  blessed  by  God  and  so  useful  to  the  church. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

Baltimore,  1847 — 1848. 


Eesignation  of  Professorship  at  Allegheny. — Removal  to  Baltimore. — Prefer- 
ence of  the  Pastoral  "Work. — Labors  in  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church. 
— Congenial  and  Useful  Employment. — Failure  of  Health. — Dissolution  of 
Pastoral  Relation. — Noble  Testimonial  of  his  Church. — Poetical  Tribute. 

De.  Green  resigned  his  professorship  in  the  Theological 
Seminary  at  Allegheny  in  October,  1846  ;  but  he  continued  to 
give  instruction  through  the  session  until  February,  1847, 
when  he  removed  to  Baltimore.  He  had  received  and  accepted 
a  call  to  the  pastoral  office  in  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church 
of  that  city — a  congregation  which  had  enjoyed  the  ministra- 
tions of  a  number  of  very  eminent  men,  among  them  Dr.  John 
Glendy  and  Drs.  John  and  Robert  J.  Breckinridge.  His 
health  had  become  somewhat  impaired  at  Allegheny  by  long 
continued  application  to  study;  and  it  was  thought  that  a 
change  of  location,  as  well  as  a  change  of  employment,  might 
be  the  means  of  i-estoration. 

But  the  prevailing  motive  with  him  in  making  such  a  change 
was  his  long  cherished  and  growing  desire  to  devote  him- 
self fully  to  the  Mork  of  preaching  the  Gospel  in  a  settled  pas- 
toral charge.  Of  a  genial,  social  disposition,  full  of  benevolence 
and  sympathy,  he  possessed  many  natural  aptitudes  for  the  work 
of  a  pastor.  But,  besides  this,  his  soul  had  ever  turned  to  the 
functions  of  the  working  ministry  with  the  greatest  possible 
relish  ;  and  he  was  constantly  concluding  that  both  his  duty 
and  his  happiness  demanded  that  he  should  devote  himself  to 
the  high  service  of  the  preaching  office.  Thus  far,  through  all 
his  professional  life,  he  had  been  a  teacher.  He  felt  more  and 
more  that  he  ought  to  be  a  pastor,  that  preaching  ought  to  be 
his  chief  work,  and  that  his  life  would  not  be  complete  until  he 


REMOVAL  TO   BALTIMORE.  39 

had  entered  on  this  service.  Had  he  consulted  his  own  inclina- 
tion he  would  have  done  this  at  the  beginning  of  his  ministry. 
His  fine  pulpit  powers,  as  shown  in  his  first  sermons,  and  his 
popular,  engaging  manners  seemed  then  to  point  to  the  pastorate 
as  his  proper  spliere  of  labor.  The  leadings  of  Providence  and 
the  calls  of  duty,  however,  had  urged  him  forward  on  a  differ- 
ent path,  and  he  threw  himself  heart  and  soul  into  the  work  of 
education. 

But  now,  at  the  age  of  forty-one,  and  after  a  ministry  of 
fourteen  years,  chiefly  devoted  to  the  teaching  office,  he  felt 
that  the  long-looked  for  opportunity  had  arrived  of  giving  him- 
self fully  to  preaching,  and  he  accepted  what  seemed  to  be  the 
clear  call  of  duty  to  go  to  Baltimore.  The  position  was  all  that 
lie  could  have  desired,  as  furnisiiing  at  once  a  delightful  resi- 
dence for  his  family,  and  a  large  and  growing  field  of  useful- 
ness, demanding  all  his  energies. 

From  the  first  Dr.  Green's  preaching — fresh,  original,  im- 
passioned, and  peculiar  as  it  always  was — attracted  much  at- 
tention in  the  city,  and  was  attended  by  crowded  audiences. 
*'  He  talks  Homer  and  the  old  Greek  and  Roman  poets  and 
philosophers,  and  every  thing  else,  here  in  Baltimore,"  said  a 
resident  of  the  city  to  a  visitor  who  was  anxious  to  hear  him, 
"and  he  mixes  it  all  up  with  religion  and  makes  people  listen  to 
him.  But  he  is  not  a  revival  preacher.  He  makes  flights  into  the 
clouds,  and  you  will  wonder  how  he  is  going  to  get  down.  But, 
I  reckon,  you  will  be  gratified  to  hear  him.  He  is  a  gentleman. 
He  is  just  fit  for  college  boys."  It  is  not  strange  that  he  should 
know  how  to^ preach  to  college  boys  and  all  other  youth  after 
having  taught  and  preached  to  them  fourteen  years. 

But,  pleasant  as  were  Dr.  Green's  surroundings  in  Baltimore 
and  acceptable  as  were  his  ministrations  to  the  people  of  his 
charge,  it  soon  began  to  appear  that  his  strength  was  not  equal  to 
the  task  he  had  undertaken.  Frequent  spells  of  nervous  pros- 
tration and  a  general  running  down  of  his  physical  system  ad- 
monished him  that  he  must  seek  a  change  and  give  up,  for  a  sea- 
son at  least,  the  much-loved  Avork  of  the  pastorate.  After  a  con- 
tinuance of  a  little  more  than  a  year  and  ahalf  of  this  delightful 


I 


40  PASTORAL   LABORS. 

relationship,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  to  ask  for  its  dissolution 
and  so  announced  his  intention.  It  is  seldom  that  a  pastoral 
relation  is  sundered  with  more  cordial  good  feeling  on  both 
sides.  The  following  beautiful  testimonial  of  respect  and  affec- 
tion, creditable  alike  to  the  people  and  the  pastor,  is  worthy  of 
being  placed  on  permanent  record  : — 

"  At  a  congregational  meeting,  held,  agreeably  to  regular  notice  from  the  pul- 
pit, in  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church  of  Baltimore,  on  Wednesday  evening, 
4th  of  October,  1848,  Rev.  J.  C.  Backus,  D.  D.,  was  called  to  preside  as  Mod- 
erator, and  James  George  was  chosen  Clerk.  The  meeting  was  opened  with 
prayer,  by  the  Moderator,  when  the  following  preamble  and  resolutions,  of- 
fered by  Elder  Wilson,  were  unanimously  adopted ;  and,  on  motion  of  the 
Hon.  W.  F.  G-iles,  it  was  ordered  that  an  attested  copy  of  the  same  be  pre- 
sented to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Green  in  the  name  of  the  congregation  : — 

"  Whereas^  In  the  Providence'  of  God  the  health  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  L.  W. 
Green,  the  beloved  pastor  of  this  congregation,  has  become  so  much  impahed  as, 
in  his  judgment,  to  render  him  unable  any  longer  to  discharge  the  laborious 
duties  of  his  official  station,  in  consequence  of  which  he  has  given  notice  to 
the  congregation  that  he  would  apply  to  the  Presbytery  of  Baltimore,  at  its 
next  stated  meeting,  to  be  held  in  this  city  on  the  10th  of  October  inst,  for  a 
dissolution  of  his  pastoral  relations  to  this  church  and  congregation.  And, 
whereas,  this  meeting  has  been  called  for  the  purpose  of  taking  action  on  the 
subject,  either  by  opposing  the  dissolution,  wliich  it  has  a  constitutional  right 
to  do,  or  by  uniting  with  Dr.  Green  in  his  application  to  effect  it.     Therefore, 

"  Resolved,  As  the  sense  of  this  meeting,  that  under  all  the  circumstances  of 
the  case,  it  is  clearly  the  duty  of  this  congregation  to  acquiesce,  however  pain- 
ful, in  what  seems  to  be  the  \y\\\.  of  God  in  the  premises ;  because  any  oppo- 
sition on  the  part  of  this  congregation  would,  doubtless,  be  regarded  by  the 
Presbytery  as  selfish  and  unkind,  especially  after  the  repeated  declarations 
made  by  Dr.  Green  both  in  pubUc  and  private  that  his  strength  was  unequal 
to  the  task ;  it  is  therefore  deemed  inexpedient  to  interpose  any  obstacles  to 
the  dissolution. 

"  Resolved,  At  the  same  time  that  it  is  with  feelings  of  the  deepest  regret  that 
this  congregation  looks  forward  to  its  separation  from  a  pastor  so  able,  so  be- 
loved, and  so  faithful;  a  pastor  whose  labors  among  us  have  been  owned 
and  blessed  of  the  great  Head  of  the  Church ;  a  pastor  by  whose  conciliatory 
efforts  peace  and  harmony  have  been  happily  restored  to  this  congregation, 
which  was  greatly  agitated  when  he  took  charge  of  it  by  repeated  disappoint- 
ments and  from  having  been  so  long  without  a  stated  ministry. 

"  Resolved,  That  this  congregation  deeply  laments  the  affliction  with  which  its 
beloved  pastor  has  been  visited ;  and  while  it  offers  him  its  kindest  sympathy 
and  condolence,  would,  at  the  same  time,  respectfully  assure  him  that  its 


RESOLUTIOXS.  41 

members,  in  tlieir  humble  prayers,  will  not  fail  to  implore  Almighty  God  that 
he  would,  in  his  infinite  mercy  and  goodness,  be  graciously  pleased  to  restore 
him  to  wonted  health  and  usefulness,  and  that  he  would  greatly  bless  and  pros- 
per him  in  his  new  field  of  labor. 

''Resolved^  That  this  congregation  heard,  with  profound  satisfaction,  the 
declaration  made  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Green,  at  the  close  of  the  morning  servico 
of  last  Sunday,  namely,  that  there  was  no  other  cause,  eitlier  proximate  or 
remote,  but  that  of  ill-health,  which  had  induced  him  to  ask  for  a  dissolution, 
and  that  the  relations  between  himself  and  the  members  of  the  congregation 
were  of  the  most  amicable  nature.  This  declaration  will  greatly  tend  to  alle- 
viate the  pain  of  separation. 

"  Resolved,  That  the  Rev.  Dr.  Green  be,  and  he  is  hereby  respectfully  re- 
quested to  remember  this  congregation  at  the  throne  of  grace,  and  pray  that 
brotherly  love  may  continue ;  that  we  may  be  kept  from  strife,  division,  and 
disunion,  and  that  God  would  direct  us  in  the  choice  of  an  under-shepherd, 
whose  labors  he  will  o\\ti  and  bless ;  a  man  after  his  owti  heart,  to  go  in  and 
out  before  us,  and  to  break  to  us  the  bread  of  life. 

"  Resolved,  That  Mrs.  Green,  by  her  many  amiable  quahties,  has  greatly 
endeared  herself  to  the  members  of  this  congregation ;  that  they  view  the 
necessity  of  being  separated  from  her  society  with  the  deepest  regret,  and  they 
will  ever  remember  her  with  the  kindest  and  most  affectionate  feelings  of 
respect  and  regard ;  nor  will  they  forget  to  pray  that  the  choicest  of  Heaven's 
blessings  may  continually  rest  on  her  and  her  dear  children. 

"Attest,  John  C.  Backus,  Moderator. 

Samuel  George,  Clerks 

It  was  not  merely  in  words  that  the  church  expressed  their 
appreciation  of  his  services.  Dr.  Green  had  subscribed  a  thou- 
sand dolhirs  toward  the  erection  of  a  new  edifice  which  his 
church  were  then  proposing  to  build;  but,  in  consideration  o£ 
his  failing  health  and  consequent  removal  from  the  pastorate,  the 
trustees  came  forward  and  voluntarily  released  him  from  this 
obligation.  During  his  residence  in  Baltimore  he  was  invited 
on  two  difierent  occasions  to  visit  New  York  foi*  the  purpose 
of  delivering  addresses  before  the  anniversary  meetings  of  the 
American  Tract  Society.  He  was  a  warm  friend  of  this  society, 
and  on  both  occasions  rendered  it  valuable  service  by  the  en- 
larged views  which  he  presented  of  its  usefulness  and  by  his 
earnest  vindication  of  its  claims  against  prevailing  misrepre- 
sentation. 

The  following  beautiful  lines,  written  by  a  lady  of  Baltimore, 


42  POETRY. 

"soon 

after  he  entered  upon  his  work  hi  that  city,  will  serve  to  illus- 
trate both  the  spirit  of  liis  preaching  and  the  interest  with  which 
he  was  heard  during  this  brief  pastorate  : 

"  Ambassador  of  Christ!  how  fearlessly 
Thou  liftest  up  the  voice  to  publish  forth 
The  tidings  of  salvation  to  the  lost 
And  ruined  sons  of  men ;  how  earnestly 
Dost  thou  entreat  the  thirsty  soul  to  come 
And  drink  of  that  fair  river  which  makes  glad 
Tlie  city  of  our  God.     Oh  I  with  what  love 
Dost  thou  beseech  the  weary,  sin-sick  soul 
To  accept  the  invitation  Jesus  gave — 
'  Come  unto  me,  ye  heavy-laden,  come. 
And  I  will  give  you  rest,'     With  what  a  voice 
Of  thunder  dost  thou  set  the  terrors  forth 
Of  God  Almighty's  law,  and  seek  to  rouse 
The  slumbering  sinner  from  his  deadly  dream 
Of  false  security.     How  gently,  too, 
Dost  thou  encourage  those  who  tremblingly, 
As  following  after  God,  whose  faith  is  weak. 
Yet  by  the  pure  word  strengthened,  will  grow  up 
Unto  the  Christian's  perfect  stature.     One 
There  is,  less  than  the  least  of  all  who  love 
The  blessed  Saviour,  who  will  long  rejoice 
In  having  heard  those  glorious  Gospel  truths 
By  thee  set  forth,  and  in  the  faith  built  up, 
And  strengthened  by  Almighty  grace,  will  run 
With  greater  zeal  along  the  heavenly  road. 
May  God  be  with  thee,  champion  of  the  cross  I 
And  crown  thy  labors  with  immortal  souls. 
And  when  thou  hast  thy  hallowed  work  fulfilled 
On  earth,  and  gone  to  thy  reward  above. 
Then  mayst  thou  shine  in  glory  as  the  sun, 
And  as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament, 
Forever  and  forever;  then  shall  praise, 
High,  holy,  pure,  be  given  to  Him  who  sits 
Upon  the  throne,  and  to  the  Lamb  who  died 
And  lives  again,  glory  for  evermore," 


CHAPTER  YI. 

Prince  Edward,  1 848-1 85G. 

Election  to  the  Presidency  of  Hampden  Sidney  College. — Intercourse  with  the 
Professors. — Portraiture  by  Dr.  Foote. — Restored  Health. — Extended  La- 
bors.— Scholarships. — Successful  Administration. — Influence  on  the  Stu- 
dents.— Style  of  Preaching. — Anecdote. — Method  of  Discipline. — Account 
of  it  by  Dr.  Dabney. — Testimonial  of  Dr.  Wilson. — Various  Calls. 

Dr.  Greex  had  not  been  long  in  Baltimore,  before  the  atten- 
tion of  the  trustees  of  Hamj^den  Sidney  College,  and  other 
prominent  members  of  the  Synod  of  Virginia,  was  turned  to 
him,  as  a  suitable  person  to  fill  their  vacant  presidency.  The 
college  had  been  for  some  time  much  depressed ;  but  its  trus- 
tees and  faculty,  with  commendable  zeal,  were  carrying  it  for 
ward  Avitbout  a  president,  until  a  competent  one  should  be 
found.  It  was  a  time-honored  institution,  and  from  its  origin 
could  boast  a  succession  of  distinguished  names  on  its  roll  of 
presidents.  Samuel  Stanhoj^e,  and  John  Blair  Smith,  Drury 
Lacy,  Archibald  Alexander,  Moses  Hoge,  Cushing,  and  Max- 
well had  each  in  turn  adorned  its  headship,  while  in  its  faculty 
had  quietly  labored  some  of  the  best  instructors  in  the  State, 
and  among  its  alumni  were  found  many  names  eminent  in  the- 
annals  of  the  church  and  the  country. 

In  the  summer  of  1848  he  was  invited  to  Prince  Edward,  and 
delivered  an  address  before  one  of  the  societies  of  the  seminary 
at  the  time  of  the  college  commencement  of  that  year — making 
a  very  favorable  impression  on  all  who  heard  him,  as  to  his 
ability  and  scholarship.  Rev.  Dr.  Foote,  who  was  present  and 
heard  him  for  the  first  time  on  that  occasion,  describes  his  ap- 
pearance, and  the  effect  produced,  in  the  following  terms : — 

"  His  countenance  wore  the  expression  of  one  who  had  been  sick,  and 
might  be  unwell  still ;  a  slight  flush  of  anxiety  passed  over  his  face,  as  he 
looked  around  over  that  collection  of  Virginia  people,  a  fair  specimen  of  the 


44-  PRESlDEXCy    OF   HAMPDEN   SIDNEY. 

Ancient  Dominion,  of  which  he  had  so  often  heard,  of  which  he  was  himself  a 
Kentucky  oflshoot.  It  was  announced  that  Dr.  Green,  of  Baltimore,  would 
address  the  young  men.  And  who  is  Dr.  Green  ?  Ah !  it  was  whispered,  ho 
is  from  Kentucky,  has  held  places  of  honor  and  trust,  and  has  sought  the 
advantage  of  the  climate  east  of  the  AUeghanies  for  his  health,  wasted  under 
intense  application.  There  never  was  a  time  that  Virginia  did  not  turn  with 
interest  to  a  son  of  her  fair  daughter  Kentucky,  and  sometimes,  like  other 
grandparents,  show  greater  partiality  than  to  her  home-horn  children.  That 
he  was  a  little  nervous,  his  spirit  a  little  restless,  as  he  met  the  face  of  an  as- 
sembly, gathered  from  the  elite  of  the  land  of  his  ancestry,  only  won  the  atten- 
tion of  the  auditory.  Almost  as  matter  of  course  that  auditory  listened  with 
profound  attention,  and  at  the  close  of  his  address  gave  him  a  place  among 
the  men  to  teach  and  guide  the  hearts  of  the  community,  especially  the  young. 
My  sympathies  were  with  him  from  the  first.  His  motions  were  quick,  his 
thoughts  flowed  rapidly,  and  yet  he  had  command  of  a  spirit  evidently  excita- 
ble, fiery,  and  fearless.  There  was  a  philosophic  composure  thrown  over  all 
the  excitement — perhaps  I  should  have  said  Christian  calmness — but  I  use  the 
word  philosophic  in  its  best  sense." 

The  trustees  and  other  prominent  frieuds  of  the  college,  a 
large  number  of  whom  were  in  attendance  on  the  exercises,  and 
some  of  whom  had  known  him  before,  felt  that  he  was  the  man 
for  the  place.  He  was  accordingly  soon  after  elected  with  cor- 
dial unanimity ;  and  in  the  autumn  of  the  same  year  entered 
upon  the  duties  of  the  office.  His  inaugural  address,  however, 
was  not  delivered  till  January  10,  1849.  He  was  now  in  a 
situation,  in  many  respects,  congenial  with  his  tastes  and  aspi- 
rations. Though  in  feeble  health  he  was  yet  in  life's  meridian ; 
and  he  had  much  to  stimulate  and  encourage  him.  He  was  on 
the  soil  of  his  ancestors,  and  had  been  received  with  a  generous, 
warm-hearted  welcome,  which  made  him  feel  from  the  first  that 
he  was  among  friends,  not  strangers.  He  had  an  important  work 
to  do,  in  raising  again  the  fortunes  of  the  embarrassed  college, 
and  he  had  the  hearty  co-operation  of  many  earnest  workers  on 
every  side. 

He  soon  grasped  the  problem  of  its  success.  He  knew  its 
history,  and  he  saw  at  once  what  it  needed ;  and  cheered  by 
the  prospect,  he  devoted  all  his  powers  of  body  and  mind  to 
its  welfare.  Frankness,  cheerfulness,  and  confidence  marked 
his  intercourse  with  the  professors  ;  he  sought  their  co-opera- 


mTERCOURSE   WITH   THE   FACULTY.  45 

tion  in  all  important  matters,  and  made  them  feel  from  the 
beginning,  that  he  was  a  friend,  and  would  rely  upon  them  for 
counsel  and  action.  Though  he  had  a  large  experience,  and 
strong  convictions  of  his  own,  on  most  educational  questions, 
yet  he  came  not  as  an  innovator,  but  as  one  who  sought  to 
build  on  the  broad  foundations  already  laid.  He  let  it  be  dis- 
tinctly understood  that  he  expected  entire  unity  of  purpose  and 
action  between  himself  and  his  colleagues ;  that  their  honor 
was  his  honor ;  and  that  in  the  prosperity  and  success  of  the 
college  they  should  all  alike  find  their  surest  reward.  Dr. 
Foote,  who  Avas  an  eye-witness  of  this  delightful  harmony, 
which  continued  during  the  whole  period  of  the  presidency, 
has  placed  on  record  tlie  following  tribute  to  the  moderation 
and  wisdom  that  marked  his  official  relations  : — 

"The  honorable  purposes  expressed  at  first  were  carried  out  to  the  full  by 
Dr.  Green  on  his  part,  and  by  the  professors  on  their  part.  Such  a  thing  as 
private  piques  and  jealousies  was  never  known.  He  evidently  sought  and 
seized  upon  opportunities  of  honoring  his  professors ;  and  they  were  always 
ready  to  mete  out  to  him  in  full  measure,  confidence  and  co-operation  in  their 
daily  duties,  and  in  those  extra  ones  that  were  often  thrown  upon  him.  He 
never  stepped  out  of  his  way  for  any  kind  of  popularity,  and  never  gave  ex- 
pression to  any  feehngs  but  gladness  when  honor  was  done  another.  AUve  to 
the  approbation  of  good  men,  he  never  thrust  himself  forward  on  any  occasion. 
After  I  became  suflBciently  acquainted  with  him  to  know  liim,  I  never  saw  him 
brought  forward,  but  I  could  see  by  the  flush  on  his  cheek  and  the  quiver  upon 
his  lip,  and  the  quick  glow  of  his  eye,  that  he  felt  his  position  for  good  or  for 
evil,  and  that  his  soul  was  agitated  with  a  desire  to  do  or  say  the  right  thing 
in  the  right  way.  Even  before  he  began  to  speak,  if  I  looked  upon  his  face, 
he  enUsted  my  favor.  It  was  evident  that  his  soul  was  alive  to  the  subject. 
It  made  no  difference  whether  his  flights  were  even  or  uneven,  fitful  or  contin- 
uous, there  was  that  earnestness  and  modesty  combined,  that  at  the  close  of 
each  sentence,  made  me  wish  to  hear  the  next.  A  deeply  sensitive  man  himself 
he  could  appreciate  the  feelings  of  others,  and  sympathize  with  speakers  who 
were  in  every  thing  antipodes  to  himself,  except  in  honesty  and  earnestness." 

When  Dr.  Green  went  to  Hampden  Sidney,  he  considered 
himself  entirely  broken  down  in  body  by  his  labors  in  Balti- 
more, and  remarked  to  a  friend,  that  he  had  come  there  to  die. 
To  his  mind,  at  that  time,  the  most  inviting  feature  in  the  posi- 
tion was  the   rest  and  quiet  ofiered  him.     But  the  change, 


46  SUCCESSFUL  ADMIXISTRATION. 

country  air,  congenial  occupation,  and  the  approach  of  middle 
life  restored  him  so  that  he  went  away  a  healthy  man.  And 
he  soon  found  himself  under  returning  health,  almost  as  busily 
engaged  as  ever  in  the  ministrations  of  the  pulpit.  His  preach- 
ing was  acceptable  and  frequently  called  for.  Besides  repeated 
calls  for  his  services  in  different  parts  of  the  State,  he  took  his 
turn  regularly  with  the  Professors  of  the  Theological  Seuiinary 
in  preaching  in  the  chapel  of  that  institution,  and  was  also  fre- 
quently invited  to  preach  in  the  College  Church  of  the  village, 
of  which  Dr.  Benjamin  H.Rice  was  then  pastor.  Wherever 
he  went  an  effectual  door  was  opened  to  him.  He  felt  that  he 
was  useful,  that  his  labors  were  blest  of  God  ;  and  that  he  was 
appreciated  by  congenial  brethren  who  loved  and  honored  him. 
It  was  one  of  the  happiest  periods  of  his  life.  He  mingled 
freely  with  many  of  the  leading  men  of  the  State,  who  gave 
him  not  only  their  approval  but  their  cordial  co-operation  in  his 
efforts  to  restore  and  elevate  one  of  their  oldest  colleges. 

And  in  this  important  work  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  feeling 
that  his  efforts  were  not  in  vain.  His  administration  continued 
through  eight  years,  during  which,  under  his  vigilant  and  judi- 
cious discipline,  every  thing  moved  on  with  precision,  harmony, 
and  a  good  degree  of  success.  The  number  of  students  in- 
creased, the  funds  were  augmented,  the  annual  commencements 
became  more  interesting  and  more  largely  attended.  He  spent 
his  vacations  in  advancing  the  cause  of  the  college,  and  at- 
tended the  meetings  of  Presbytery  and  Synod,  obtaining  scholar- 
ships, and  securing  students.  His  presence  everywhere  created 
new  interest  in  the  college,  and  his  felicitous  manner  of  pre- 
senting the  twofold  object  of  his  mission,  the  education  of 
youth  and  the  salvation  of  men,  interweaving  the  two  as  indis- 
soluble, drew  attentive  audiences  wherever  he  preached.  And 
seldom  did  he  preach  without  producing  a  favorable  impression 
for  his  cause.  With  the  co-operation  of  his  faculty  and  the 
trustees,  the  course  of  studies  was  gradually  enlarged,  and  the 
standard  of  scholarship  raised,  so  as  to  meet  the  wants  of  the 
public  and  preserve  the  relative  position  of  the  college  among 
the  more  liberally  endowed  State  institutions.     The  students 


ENCOURAGEMENT   IN  HIS  WORK.  47 

themselves  caught  the  enthusiasm,  and  the  ardor  of  pursuit  in 
literature  and  science  diffused  a  joyousness  over  the  whole  col- 
lege precincts. 

Rev.  Dr.  R.  L.  Dabney,  who  became  Professor  of  Theology 
in  the  seminary  at  Prince  Edward,  a  few  years  after  Dr.  Green 
took  charge  of  the  college,  speaks  of  him  and  his  administra- 
tion in  the  follow^ing  terms  : — 

"He  was  a  cordial  and  hospitable  neighbor;  an  exceedingly  animated  and 
agreeable  companion,  and  a  firm  and  enlightened  friend  of  our  seminary  and 
faculty.  Dr.  Green's  interest  in  Hampden  Sidney  was  warm  and  sincere. 
He  was  a  valuable  acquisition  to  the  college.  "When  he  came,  its  literary  and 
financial  state  was  bad ;  the  faculty  small  and  nearly  starved  out ;  the  endow- 
ment almost  exhausted ;  there  were  about  twenty-seven  students,  and  these  in 
an  insubordinate  condition.  With  the  zealous  support  of  Professor  Charles 
Martin  (still  a  member  of  the  faculty),  he  restored  the  finances,  chiefly  by  a 
scholarship  scheme.  Two  efforts  made  by  Mr.  Martin,  whose  enterprise  and 
energy  were  invaluable,  and  other  agents,  added  about  eighty  thousand  dollars 
to  the  permanent  endowment.  The  faculty  were  sustained,  and  the  number 
of  students  ran  up  to  a  hundred  and  thirty-five,  or  even  a  hundred  and  fifty. 
There  was  also  a  great  increase  in  their  order,  diligence,  and  manliness." 

Besides  the  important  aid  of  Professor  Martin  in  maturing 
and  carrying  forward  this  scholarship  scheme  of  endowment, 
he  found  also  in  Rev.  Dr.  Jesse  Armistead  an  efficient  and  suc- 
cessful coadjutor.  He  also  gave  his  own  personal  attention  to 
the  work,  spending  his  vacations  in  raising  funds  on  that  plan. 
One  secret  of  his  success,  through  all  these  efforts,  was  in  the 
fact  that  he  had  the  hearty  co-operation  and  sympathy  of  the 
leading  men  around  him — his  own  faculty  and  trustees,  the 
professors  and  directors  of  the  seminary,  and  other  members 
of  the  Synod.  In  the  life  of  a  good  man  there  is  no  sweeter 
reward  and  no  keener  stimulus  to  exertion  than  to  feel  that 
God  blesses  his  labors,  and  that  his  brethren  appreciate  and 
sustain  him.  This  encouragement  he  had  in  a  high  degree  du- 
ring his  whole  administration  in  Hampden  Sidney. 

An  incident  is  related  of  him  at  Hampden  Sidney,  which 
serves  to  illustrate  at  once  the  pungency  of  his  preaching  and 
his  faithfulness  in  dealing  with  the  pupils  committed  to  his 
charge.     After  preaching  one  morning,  he  was  followed  to  the 


4  8  IXFLUEXCE   ON   THE   STUDENTS. 

gate  by  a  studeiit,  a  special  favorite,  who  abruptly  accosted 
him  thus : — "  Good  morning,  Dr.  Green,  you  are  no  gentleman, 
sir.  I  always  believed  you  were  a  gentleman  until  this  morn- 
ing." "  What  do  you  mean,  C — ,"  he  replied,  calmed  in  an 
instant  by  a  glance  at  the  face  of  the  agitated  youth.  "  I  mean, 
sir,  what  I  say,  that  you  are  no  gentleman,  for  no  gentleman 
would  insult  another  as  you  chose  to  insult  me  publicly  in  your 
sermon  just  now.  You  know  that  every  word  of  it  was  meant 
for  me,  and  you  had  no  right  to  expose  me  to  the  whole  con- 
gregation." "  My  dear  C — ,"  said  he,  "I  was  not  thinking  of 
you  at  all ;  that  sermon  was  written  and  preached  ten  years 
ago  in  Kentucky."  This  assurance  pacified  him  instantly. 
The  doctor  carried  him  into  the  house,  had  a  long  talk  with 
him,  and  had  the  happiness  afterward  of  seeing  him  a  hope- 
fully converted  man. 

He  was  well  fitted,  as  the  Baltimore  preacher  expressed  it, 
to  preach  to  college  boys.  "  I  did  not  wonder,"  says  Dr. 
Foote,  speaking  of  this  period,  '•  that  his  students  loved  him, 
and  loved  to  hear  him  preach.  He  added  to  and  filled  out 
the  charming  variety  on  College  Hill."  He  chose  subjects  in- 
teresting to  the  young,  and  presented  to  them  the  results  of 
deep  study  and  protracted  thought  in  a  pleasing  elocution 
His  fancy  was  lively,  his  imagination  glowing,  and  his  heart 
warm ;  and  their  own  hearts  and  minds  were  deeply  interested 
in  his  sublime  thoughts  and  forcible  conclusions,  which  seemed 
to  them  to  re-echo  and  apply  the  profound  logical  discussions 
they  had  heard  in  the  class-room.  His  own  high  sense  of  honor 
and  gentlemanly  bearing  incited  the  students,  in  happy  emu- 
lation, to  the  cultivation  of  the  kind,  the  noble,  the  elevated,  in 
their  social  intercourse.  They  were  constrained  to  look  upon 
him  as  a  I'riend.  Plis  disapprobation  was  grief  to  the  offender, 
and  he  was  unhappy  till  reconciled.  He  put  his  students  upon 
their  sense  of  honor ;  appealed  to  whatever  was  manly  in  their 
nature,  and  sought  to  govern  them  by  the  principles  of  right 
and  duty  revealed  in  the  word  of  God. 

His  discipline  was  kind,  paternal,  and  skilful.     "His method 
of  management  "  says  Dr.  Dabney,  "  was  to  discard  petty  sur- 


METHOD   OF   DISCTPLIXE.  49 

voillance,  to  treat  the  students  witli  cordial  confidence  while 
they  seemed  to  beliave  with  propriety,  and  as  soon  as  a  chap 
seemed  slack  in  recitations  or  morals,  to  send  him  back  to  his 
parents  summarily.  As  the  institution  received  no  tuition  fees 
(scholarships  having  superseded  them)  the  faculty  were  not 
restrained  from  applying  the  knife  promptly,  by  any  sensitive- 
ness about  the  pocket.  When  any  outrage  was  committed  by 
an  unknown  student,  Dr.  Green  had  a  very  adroit  way  of  trap- 
ping the  real  culprit.  A  conference  with  his  colleagues,  with 
an  examination  of  recitation  marks,  and  other  indications, 
would  lead  to  a  guess  as  to  which  students  were  likely  to  be 
engaged  in  pranks.  And  they  rarely  guessed  wrong.  The 
faculty  would  meet  in  private  conclave  and  send  for  the  sus- 
pected party.  Dr.  Green  addressed  himvery  respectfully  to  this 
effect.  "  You  know,  Mr.  B.,  that  such  an  outrage  has  been 
committed.  We  lament  exceedingly  to  be  obliged  to  say,  that 
the  circumstances  point  to  you.  But  such  is  our  confidence  in 
your  honor,  that  one  word  of  disclaimer  will  relieve  our  minds 
wholly,  and  we  shall  hasten  with  great  pleasure  to  make  every 
reparation  in  our  power  for  an  unjust  conclusion."  Mr.  B. 
would  probably  scratch  his  head,  hesitate,  look  sheepish*,  and 
end  by  saying  that  he  could  not  speak  that  word  of  disclaimer. 
Dr.  Green  knew  that  if  he  lied,  the  students  would  expel  him. 
"  Well,  then,"  he  would  answer,  "  Mr.  B.,  the  faculty  find 
themselves  constrained  to  recommend  that  you  return  to  the 
parental  control,"  and  the  next  morning's  stage  would  carry 
him  away,  bag  and  baggage. 

We  have  an  interesting  account  of  his  work  at  Hampden 
Sidney  from  the  pen  of  Dr.  Joseph  li.  Wilson,  already  referred 
to, — who  w^as,  at  the  time,  associated  with  him  in  the  faculty 
of  the  institution. 

"  The  good  work  he  accomplished  there  it  would  be  hard  to  overrate.  He 
found  the  college  not  very  flourishing,  he  left  it  in  a  higli  state  of  prosperity. 
The  whole  purpose  of  his  soul  was  given  to  the  interests  of  that  institution. 
He  left  nothing  undone  or  untried  which  promised  to  promote  its  welfare.  In 
this  position  he  showed  that  his  rare  qualities  as  a  disciplinarian  were  excelled 
only  by  his  eminence  as  an  instructor.  His  knowledge  of  human  nature,  and 
Ills  conspicuous  goodness  of  heart,  together  with  the  attractions  of  his  personal 
3 


4S~j  IXYITED    TO   OTHER   INSTITUTIOXS. 

intercourse,  admirably  fitted  him  for  dealing  with  bojs.  He  possessed  that  dis- 
position, both  merciful  and  just,  which  enabled  him  to  win  their  love,  while 
administering  the  severest  reproofs.  And  as  the  presiding  officer  of  our  fac- 
ulty, he  was  every  thing  that  could  be  desired ;  never  overbearing,  never  self- 
ish, never  exacting,  never  coarse,  but  always  superior ;  he  won  our  hearts  at 
the  same  time  that  he  commanded  our  respect  and  confidence.  His  reputation 
soon  spread  abroad ;  and  every  year  it  spread  more  widely.  Xo  college  presi- 
dent ever  enjoyed  a  purer  fame.  The  fact  is  undeniable  that  Dr.  Green  was 
a  really  great  man,  and  had  his  bodily  health  been  as  robust  as  his  mental 
energies  were  strong,  he  would  have  become  illustrious.  As  it  was,  he  left 
behind  him,  in  Virginia,  a  name  free  from  blemish,  and  for  commanding,  posi- 
tive excellence,  well  deserving  of  being  held  in  grateful  remembrance.  The 
cause  of  education  in  the  Old  Commonwealth  wUl  forever  remain  his  debtor. 
There,  too,  the  cause  of  religion  owes  more  to  his  influence  than  it  does  to 
most  men  of  his  day.  Altogether  he  left  a  mark  which  cannot  be  easily 
obliterated." 

Scarcely  had  Dr.  Green  become  fully  settled  at  Hampden  Sid- 
ney College,  with  returning  health,  before  efforts  began  to  be 
made  to  draw  him  to  other  fields  of  labor.  The  friends  of  Jef- 
ferson College,  at  Cannon sburg,  Pennsylvania,  even  before  he 
left  Baltimore,  had  made  an  overture  to  place  him  at  the  head 
of  that  institution;  and  they  renewed  it  again  during  his  resi- 
dence in  Virginia  with  still  greater  zeal.  But  though  his  own 
college  had  opened  with  less  than  thirty  students,  while  Jeffer- 
son had  two  hundred  and  fifty,  and  though  Dr.  A.  B.  Brown, 
the  former  president,  in  repeated  letters  nrged  upon  him  the 
claims  of  the  latter  institution  ;  yet  feeling  that  he  was  where 
God  had  placed  him,  and  that  he  must  not  despise  the  day  of 
small  things,  he  cheerfully  declined  all  further  propositions,  and 
determined  to  abide  in  his  lot  and  work  on.  Even  as  late  as 
1855,  a  very  inviting  overture  was  made  to  him  to  return  to 
Kentucky,  and  settle  among  his  old  friends  and  kindred,  as 
Pastor  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  of  Danville,  then 
vacant  by  the  removal  of  Dr.  William  M.  Scott  to  Cincinnati. 
But  this  he  also  declined.  On  several  other  occasions,  as  will 
be  seen  in  the  next  chapter,  he  came  to  a  similar  conclusion  as 
to  his  duty  at  Hampden  Sidney ;  and  it  was  not  until  he  had 
labored  on  for  eight  years,  and  saw  his  beloved  college  on  the 
high  ground  of  prosperity,  that  he  could  feel  himself  at  liberty 
to  leave  it. 


CHAPTEU  VII. 

Lexixgton  and  Danville,  1856 — 1863. 

Positions  Declined. — Predilections  for  the  West. — Strong  Call  from  Kentucky. 
— Resignation  of  his  Presidency  at  Hampden  Sidney. — Presidency  of 
Transylvania  University. — Scheme  for  a  Normal  School. — Inauguration. — 
Auspicious  Beginning. — Disappointments. — Resig-nation. — Called  to  tho 
Presidency  of  Centre  College. — Inaugural  Address. — Joint  Pastorate  in 
Danville.  —  Successful  Administration. —  Trials  and  Conflicts.  —  Testi- 
monial. 

Ox  the  organization  of  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Dan- 
ville, in  1854,  Dr.  Green  was  the  first  choice  of  his  ministerial 
brethren  in  Kentucky  for  the  chair  of  Biblical  Literature  in  that 
institution ;  and  he  would,  no  doubt,  have  been  unanimously 
elected  to  it  by  the  General  Assembly  had  not  influential  mem- 
bers of  the  Synod  of  Virginia,  the  friends  of  Hampden  Sidney 
College,  interposed  to  retain  him  in  the  important  position  he 
then  occupied.  He  was  a  Western  man,  and  had  never  ceased 
to  feel  the  most  lively  interest  in  the  cause  of  education  and 
religion  at  the  West.  He  was  a  Kentuckian,  and  his  residence 
at  the  East  had  in  no  degree  abated  his  attachment  to  the 
people  of  hi&  native  State.  All  his  sympathies  and  predilec- 
tions would  have  strongly  drawm  him  to  a  position  so  impor- 
tant and  honorable  as  a  professorship  in  the  new  seminary 
located  in  the  bosom  of  the  Kentucky  churches.  But  the  call 
of  duty  was  urgent  at  Hampden  Sidney.  The  friends  of  that 
institution  prevailed,  and  the  appointment  was  not  made.  He 
had  also,  in  1853,  promptly  declined  being  re-elected  to  a  pro- 
fessorship in  the  Allegheny  Seminary,  on  the  ground  that  he 
could  not  leave  Hampden  Sidne}'.  Still  earlier,  in  1850,  he  had 
been  the  first  choice  of  the  Synod  of  Kentucky  to  fill  its  pro- 


52  CALLED   TO   KEXTUCKY. 

fessorsliip  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  "New  Albany,  which 
position  he  had  been  strongly  nrged  to  accept,  but  had  declined 
on  the  same  ground. 

In  the  lapse  of  years,  however,  another  call  came  to  him 
from  Kentucky,  which  he  felt  it  to  be  his  duty  to  accept.  It 
seemed  to  oj^en  a  door  of  extended  usefulness,  not  often  opened 
to  any  man,  and  he  felt  that  through  it  he  might,  in  all  prob- 
ability, accomplish  the  greatest  work  of  his  life.  In  1856  the 
Transylvania  University  at  Lexington,  the  oldest  collegiate 
institution  in  the  State,  was  re-organized  by  an  act  of  the 
Legislature  of  Kentucky,  and  in  connection  with  it  a  normal 
school  for  the  educati-on  of  teachers  was  established,  as  an  in- 
dispensable auxiliary  to  the  common  school  system  of  the  State 
The  normal  school  was  itself  to  be  a  part  of  the  university, 
forming  one  of  five  schools  or  departments,  each  having  its 
appropriate  course  of  instruction,  but  all  under  the  direction 
of  the  faculty  and  trustees  of  the  university. 

It  was  a  noble  scheme.  It  looked  as  if  Kentucky  were  about 
to  step  forward  on  the  high-road  of  popular  education,  and  to 
illustrate,  in  a  new  way,  the  fact  that  the  schoolmaster  is 
abroad  in  the  land.  At  the  head  of  this  important  and  most 
promising  movement  the  friends  of  education  in  Kentucky 
desired  to  place  a  man  of  acknowledged  ability  and  exj^erience. 
The  choice  fell  on  Dr.  Green,  whose  learning,  practical  skill,  and 
enthusiasm  in  the  cause  of  education,  all  singled  him  out  as  the 
man  for  the  place.  He  was  accordingly  elected  president  of 
the  institution.  His  old  friends — many  of  them  among  the 
most  prominent  men  in  the  State — urged  his  acceptance.  Some 
visited  him  in  person  to  press  the  call.  He  was  induced  to 
make  a  visit  to  Lexington  and  see  the  field  for  himself  The 
visit  was  almost  an  ovation.  Everybody  urged  him  to  return 
to  his  native  State  and  take  a  position  which — thus  placing 
him  at  the  head  of  its  whole  educational  system — woidd  put  it 
in  his  power  to  do  incalculable  good  for  all  time  to  come. 
Such  a  call  he  could  not  resist.  Returning  to  Virginia  he  re- 
signed the  presidency  of  Hampden  Sidney  before  the  close  of 
the  session  of  1856.      Rev.  Dr.  R.  L.  Dabney,  of  the  Theo- 


HIS  WORK  AT  LEXINGTON.  63 

logical  Seminary,  agreed  to  take  his  place  as  temporary  in- 
structor and  graduate  the  Senior  Class  of  that  year. 

He  removed  to  Lexington  in  August,  and  on  the  18th  of 
November  was  inaugurated  President  of  the  Transylvania 
University  and  the  State  aSTormal  School.  On  this  occasion, 
in  presence  of  a  large  concourse,  Governor  Charles  ]Morehead, 
ex-officio  President  of  the  Board  of  Trustees,  addressed  him 
in  these  words  of  cordial  welcome :  *'  On  behalf  of  the 
trustees,  whose  organ  I  am,  under  whose  control  the  institution 
has  been  placed,  and  by  whom  you  have  been  unanimously 
elected  president,  and  may  I  not  add  also,  on  behalf  of  the 
State  of  Kentucky,  whose  most  cherished  institution  is  sought 
to  be  promoted,  I  welcome  you  back  to  your  native  State,  and 
with  a  heart  glowing  with  honest  pride  with  the  anticipation 
of  triumphant  success,  I  congratulate  you  on  the  enlarged 
sphere  of  usefulness  which  is  open  before  you."  To  this 
kindly  greeting  Dr.  Green  responded,  in  words  of  deep 
emotion,  that  for  sixteen  years  he  had  been  an  exile  from  his 
native  State,  in  no  dishonorable  exile  it  was  true,  but  still  that 
he  had  always  looked  upon  Kentucky  as  his  home,  and  it  was 
with  the  most  intense  delight  that  he  now  girded  himself  for 
the  loved  work  of  instructing  her  youth,  and  training  them  for 
usefulness  and  honor.  His  whole  address,  delivered  on  the 
occasion,  was  heard  with  rapt  attention.  It  was  one  of  his 
happiest  efforts,  abounding  in  noble,  patriotic  sentiments,  and 
just  views  of  the  teacher's  province,  responsibility,  and  duties. 

He  entered  upon  his  work  at  Lexington  with  his  accustomed 
zeal  and  energy.  There  had  been  much  dissatisfaction  and 
discouragement  previous  to  his  arrival.  But  he  at  once  infused 
new  life  into  the  institution,  and  inspired  its  friends  with  the 
highest  hopes.  Through  the  tall  and  winter  he  was  kept  ex- 
ceedingly busy,  maturing  his  plans  for  the  Normal  School,  and 
preparing  to  carry  forward  the  great  work,  while  from  Sabbath 
to  Sabbath,  not  only  at  Lexington,  but  in  other  adjacent  places, 
he  preached  to  large  and  delighted  congregations.  His  pulpit 
ministrations  at  this  time  were,  in  ability  and  eloquence,  equal 
to  any  of  his  life,  and  were  universally  admired.     This  was 


54  DISAPPOINTMENTS. 

especially  the  case  with  a  lecture  on  the  "  Immortality  of  the 
Soul,"  which  he  delivered  in  many  places  with  great  effect, 
but  of  which  nothing  remains  among  his  manuscripts.  Every 
one  was  delighted  with  his  administration  of  the  institution. 
In  his  letters  of  this  pei-iod  adverting  to  the  fact  that  some 
people  had  already  begun  to  predict  that  they  should  do  a 
great  work,  he  says — "  But  I  do  not  wish  to  be  high-minded, 
but  fear,  and  gratefully  accept  what  God  may  mercifully  send. 
Our  number  is  about  125  or  130,  as  many  as  I  desire  to  start 
with."  A  month  later,  he  writes — "  I  think  I  am  giving  uni- 
versal satisfaction,  and  the  college  moves  on  beyond  all  expec- 
tation. But  I  have  had  first,  great  anxiety,  and  since,  rather 
too  much  applause."  During  these  months  also  he  set  to  work, 
and  secured  the  co-operation  of  the  ministers  and  leading  men 
of  the  place,  in  a  movement  in  behalf  of  the  Temperance  cause, 
delivering  an  able  lecture  on  the  subject. 

But  this  auspicious  opening  was  destined  to  be  followed  by 
disappointments  of  which  no  one  then  conceived.  By  one  of 
those  strange  freaks,  or  follies,  of  legislation,  from  which  our 
country  has  never  been  entirely  exempt,  the  wise  and  noble 
work  thus  begun  was  all  reversed  by  the  succeeding  Legisla- 
ture. This  is  not  the  place  to  discuss  the  causes,  or  reveal  the 
influences  that  led  to  so  unlooked-for  a  result.  Suffice  it  to 
say,  that  the  aj^propriation  was  withdrawn,  the  law  was  re- 
pealed, and  the  project  of  a  Normal  School,  in  connection  with 
university  education  abandoned.  Seeing  that  the  great  object 
for  which  he  had  come  to  Kentucky,  and  on  which  he  had 
labored  in  hope  for  nearly  two  years,  was  thus  nipped  in  the 
bud,  and  that  now  there  could  be  little  prospect  of  raising  Tran- 
sylvania University  into  a  first-class  institution,  after  all  the 
changes  and  disappointments  of  its  past  hi^^tory.  Dr.  Green 
felt  himself  at  liberty  to  retire  from  the  position,  and  accord- 
ing^^ resigned  the  presidency  in  the  winter  of  1857,  on  the  pas- 
sage of  the  bill  which  destroyed  the  Xormal  School. 
'  He  retired  as  one  who  felt  that  no  responsibility  of  the  fi\il- 
ure  rested  on  him  or  his  friends.  He  had  accepted  the  high 
trust  in  good  faith,  had  girded  himself  for  a  great  and  good 


PRESIDENCY   OF   CENTRE   COLLEGE.  55 

work,  and,  in  the  brief  space  allotted  him,  had  accomplished 
enough  to  show  what  he  could  have  done,  if  opportunity  had 
been  given.  No  part  of  his  life  had  been  more  marked  by- 
activity.  Young  men  had  been  drawn  from  all  parts  of  the 
State.  The  annual  commencement  had  never  been  attended 
with  better  success.  And  his  whole  instruction  in  the  univer- 
sity, as  well  as  his  preaching,  had  elicited  the  admiration  of  all 
classes  at  Lexington.  He  was  invited  to  preach  in  the  churches 
of  all  denominations  in  the  city,  where  large  audiences  gathered 
to  hear  him  from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath ;  and  in  the  afternoon  of 
each  Sabbath  he  preached  in  the  chapel  of  the  university.  In 
no  sense  had  he  failed.  But  through  causes  over  which  he  had 
no  control,  his  beloved  State  had  failed  to  secure  a  great 
boon. 

Dr.  Green  was  elected  President  of  Centre  College,  August 
6,  1857,  and  on  the  1st  of  January,  1858,  entered  upon  his 
appropriate  duties,  with  strong  hopes  of  usefulness  and  suc- 
cess. It  was  a  position  in  every  respect  desirable,  and  one  for 
which  his  mature  experience  and  his  well-tried  abilities  amply 
qualified  him.  It  seemed  to  be  a  special  distinction  of  Provi- 
dence, and  an  omen  of  much  good  for  the  future,  that  he  who 
graduated  with  its  first  small  class,  should  now  return,  so  richly 
furnished,  to  take  charge  of  it  as  president.  His  inaugural 
address  was  delivered  before  the  Synod  of  Kentucky,  at  its 
meeting  in  Lebanon,  October  14,  1858.  Like  all  his  inaugural 
discourses  it  was  scholarly,  sound  in  sentiment,  eloquent  in  dic- 
tion, and  full  of  practical  suggestions  of  great  importance. 

Centre  College  had  thus  far  held  an  important  place  among 
the  educational  institutions  of  the  AYest.  For  a  quarter  of  a 
century,  and  almost  from  its  foundation,  it  had  stood  as  the 
leading  college  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  West. 
Under  the  long  and  faithful  services  of  Dr.  John  C.  Young — 
Dr.  Green's  immediate  predecessor  at  Danville — the  institution 
had  been  greatly  prospered,  and  had  risen  to  a  position  of  com- 
manding influence  in  the  church  and  in  the  country.  All  felt 
that  in  Dr.  Green  it  had  secured  a  head  worthy  to  succeed 
those  who  had  gone  before,  and  competent  to  conduct  it  to  still 


56  JOINT  PASTORATE. 

hisrher  success.  And  it  cannot  be  doubted  that,  but  for  the 
disasters  of  tbe  civil  war  which  soon  broke  out,  and  ahnost  dis- 
banded its  students,  such  would  have  been  the  result.  As  it 
was,  he  was  destined  to  labor  on,  amid  trials  and  discourage- 
ments, for  five  years,  until  death  arrested  his  useful  labors. 

In  addition  to  the  duties  of  his  presidency,  Dr.  Green  soon 
became  actively  engaged  in  pastoral  work  at  Danville.  In 
April,  1858,  Dr.  Alfred  Ryers  and  himself  received  a  joint  call 
to  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church  of  the  place,  and  were  asso- 
ciated as  collengues  in  tlie  pastoral  cfire  of  that  congregation. 
Here  he  preached  with  his  usual  power  and  success  for  several 
years,  until  the  church  edifice  w^as  destroyed  by  fire,  and  the 
congregation  was  left  without  a  house  of  worship.  Afterward 
the  tw^o  congregations  worshipped  together  in  the  building  of 
the  First  Church,  of  which  Rev.  Dr.  Yantis  was  at  that  time 
pastor,  and  with  whom,  afier  awhile,  he  also  became  associated 
in  preaching — ofiiciating  on  alternate  Sabbaths  until  his  death, 
though  not  installed  as  pastor  of  that  church. 

During  the  first  years  of  his  administration,  the  college  made 
steady  progress,  the  number  of  students  becoming  greater  than 
it  had  ever  been  before,  and  the  funds  being  also  much 
increased.  But  this  j^rosperity  and  all  his  plans  of  usefulness 
were  sadly  changed  on  the  breaking  out  of  the  war.  As  the 
crisis  came  on,  and  party  lines  began  to  be  more  strongly 
drawn,  he  found  difficulties  and  discouragements  which  had  not" 
been  anticipated,  and  which  severely  tried  his  spirit.  Though 
the  prospect  for  the  college  was  satisfactory  and  encouraging, 
for  the  times,  still  be  felt  the  want  of  that  hearty  co-operation 
and  appreciation  of  his  services  which  had  so  cheered  and  sus- 
tained him  at  Hampden  Sidney.  It  was  under  such  impressions 
that  he  penned  the  following  lines  to  an  intimate  friend,  "  I 
long  for  quiet  and  leisure  for  nobler  objects,  and  am  more  than 
lialf  prepared  to  make  my  own  definite  arrangements  to  retire 
from  the  field,  when  the  college  shall  have  become  what  they 
call  great,  and  devote  my  latter  and  best  days  to  study  and 
writing  in  the  vicinity  of  some  foreign  university.  Six  years, 
I  think,  will  bring   three  hundred   students   to   the  college. 


TRIALS   AND   CONFLICTS.  67 

When  these  six  years  of  toil  and  conflict  are  accomplished, 
what  think  you  ?  JNIay  I  retire  ?  I  ask  your  opinion  seriously, 
but  in  entire  confidence." 

Nevertheless,  "bating  not  a  jot  of  heart  or  hope"  in  the 
high  endeavor  to  discharge  his  whole  duty,  he  stood  at  his 
post  and  worked  on,  steadily  and  perseveringly  amidst  increas- 
ing toil  and  conflict  even  to  the  end.  The  times  were  out  of 
joint,  and  even  good  men  were  unable  to  see  eye  to  eye ;  but 
God  was  on  the  throne,  and  he  felt  that  no  true  work  and 
labor  of  love  would  lose  its  recompense.  "  How  we  love  to 
remember  that  kind  old  man,"  says  a  pupil  of  these  last  years, 
*'  as  with  his  hair  fast  whitening,  and  even  then  enfeebled  step, 
he  used  to  come  through  the  Campus  in  the  morning,  and,  with 
smiles  of  recognition,  the  afiectionate  clasp  of  the  hand,  and 
an  anxious  inquiry  for  our  health,  reply  to  our  early  salutations. 
With  bowed  head  and  dignified  step  he  marches  down  the 
aisle  to  his  chair,  his  eagle  eye  scans  each  answering  counte- 
nance at  roll-call,  and  each  absentee  is  marked  for  censure  or 
excuse.  After  reading  some  impressive  lesson,  as  only  he 
could  read,  from  the  pages  of  Holy  Writ,  how  eloquent  was 
his  prayer  for  the  spiritual  and  eternal  welfare  of  his  boys — 
how  earnestly  did  he  beseech  God,  that  he  would  forgive  the 
many  impenitent  among  us,  make  us  sensible  of  our  condition, 
and  turn  all  hearts  heavenward !  With  what  fervor  did  he 
ask  that  teachers  and  pupils  might  be  rendered  faithful  in  the 
discharge  of  their  respective  duties,  that  the  seed  might  here 
be  scattered  by  diligent  sowers,  and  falling  into  good  ground, 
in  due  season  bear  fruit  a  hundredfold  !" 

There  was  a  singleness  of  aim  in  all  the  great  purposes  of 
life,  and  he  was  true  to  it  to  the  last.  He  had  worked  on  dif- 
ferent fields,  and  often  far  asunder,  but  in  every  office  he  had 
filled,  whether  as  an  educator  or  a  minister  of  God,  the  grand 
purpose  of  all  his  exertions,  the  uniform  pursuit  of  his  life,  had 
been  to  disseminate  among  his  fellow-citizens,  and  especially 
among  the  educated  youth  of  his  country,  a  taste  for  solid  and 
sanctified  learning,  to  carry  education  into  religion,  and  reli- 
gion into  education,  and  to  give  to  each  its  proper  elevation 
3* 


58  PURPOSE   OF  HIS  LIFE. 

in  the  public  esteem,  to  reclaim  the  young  men  of  his  genera- 
tion from  all  low  and  sordid  interests,  from  all  selfish  and  un- 
hallowed ambitions,  and  to  fix  their  minds  on  objects  of  a 
nobler,  even  an  immortal  character.  This  was  the  key-note  of 
his  life,  and  he  was  true  to  it  to  the  last. 

"Oh!  be  it  ours  at  life's  blest  close  to  stand, 
Scarred  though  it  be  with  sorrows,  still  erect 
In  harness  to  the  last,  raising  our  heads, 
In  the  one  battle-field,  aloft  to  Thee  1 
Scourged,  chastened,  purified,  and  hearing  now 
The  inner  voices  chanting  victory  I 
Like  some  old  warrior  chief  on  his  last  field, 
Dying  with  upturned  face,  and  in  his  ears 
An  army's  songs  of  triumph,  heedless  all 
If  so  be  the  stem  fight  is  won  at  last. 
And  his  flag  flies  victorious  in  death  I" 


CHAPTER  YIII. 

Dax^-ille,  1863. 


Last  Sickness  and  Death. — Multiplied  Labors. — The  Church  and  College. — 
Cause  of  his  Illness. — Incessant  "Work. — The  Closing  Scene. — His  Last 
Sermons. — Increased  Spirituality. — Intense  Sympathies. — Letters  on  the 
"War. — Ministry  of  Love  and  Consolation. — His  Funeral. — Burial. — Reso- 
lutions of  his  Church  and  of  the  Faculty. 

Dr.  Greex  died  as  he  had  lived,  in  the  midst  of  work.  His 
last  illness,  which  was  sudden  and  of  short  duration,  lasting  less 
than  a  w^eek,  found  him  at  the  post  of  duty,  and  with  all  his  armor 
on.  He  was  filling  an  important  and  ever-widening  sphere  of 
usefulness  (all  feeling  that  he  was  the  right  man  in  the  right 
place),  dividing  his  time  and  energies  between  the  duties  of 
instruction  in  the  college,  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel,  and  the 
numerous  calls  of  duty  to  the  sick  and  dying  around  him — 
when  the  summons  came.  Xever,  perhaps,  in  life  had  his 
work  been  more  pressing,  his  duties  more  multiplied,  his 
preaching  more  acceptable,  and  his  whole  intercourse  with  those 
around  him  more  blest  of  God,  than  during  these  last  days  at 
Danville.  And  when  he  fell  in  the  midst  of  these  useful  labors 
— his  eye  undimmed,  and  his  natural  force  unabated — being 
but  in  the  fifty-eighth  year  of  his  age — many  were  the  hearts 
far  and  near,  that  deplored  the  loss.  How  soon,  and  how  sud- 
denly was  the  strong  staftM)roken  and  the  beautiful  rod. 

He  was  taken  sick  on  Thursday  and  died  on  the  Tuesday 
following — May  26,  1863.  It  was  soon  after  the  terrible  bat- 
tle of  Perryville,  near  Danville,  when  the  college  and  the 
cliurches  of  the  place  were  turned  into  hospitals  for  the  sick, 
wounded,  and  dying  soldiers;  three  thousand  of  whom,  from 
first  to  last,  were  brought  there  to  be  cared  for.  For  days 
and  nights  his  time  and  stren^^th  were  devoted  to  the  relief  of 


60  LAST  ILLNESS. 

the  sufferers — visitiug  the  sick,  ministering  to  the  d^nng,  bury- 
ing the  dead,  and  giving  comfort  and  counsel  to  the  living,  and 
at  the  same  time  carrying  on  liis  instructions  in  the  college, 
and  preaching  on  the  Sabbath.  It  vras  too  ranch  for  his  highly 
wrought  sensibilities.  His  physical  system  was  overtaxed,  and 
fell  an  easy  victim  to  disease  in  the  almost  pestilential  condition 
of  the  atmosphere  then  prevailing  at  Danville — his  own  resi- 
dence being  very  near  the  college,  which  had  been  used  as  a 
hospital  by  one  army  or  the  other  for  many  months. 

On  Thursday  morning  he  was  making  a  call  at  the  house  of  a 
friend,  and  complained  of  chilliness.  The  lady,  observing  his 
pallor,  offered  to  send  him  home  in  her  carriage,  but  he  declined, 
paying  that  the  walk  in  the  fresh  air  and  sunshine  would  warm 
and  revive  him.  His  family  were  not  at  home,  but  one  of  his 
daughters,  reaching  the  house  about  fifteen  minutes  after  him, 
was  met  at  the  gate  by  a  servant  who  begged  her  to  hurry  in, 
as  he  was  very  sick.  Physicians  were  summoned  at  once,  and 
quickly  arrived ;  but  he  was  already  in  a  congestive  chill.  It 
was  a  mortal  illness  from  the  first.  That  evening  he  became 
delirious,  and  all  through  the  night,  and  the  next  day  and 
night,  he  was  in  extreme  agony.  A  second  chill  on  Friday  was 
followed  by  paralysis,  and  he  sank  into  a  state  ot  unconscious- 
ness, from  which  he  could  be  aroused  only  a  few  moments  at  a 
time.  Says  the  daughter  who  describes  the  scene :  "  I  think 
he  must  have  had  conscious  intervals.  I  begged  him  if  he 
knew  me  to  press  my  hand;  instantly  his  fingers  closed  on 
mine,  and  for  a  moment  he  was  convulsed  in  what  seemed  to 
be  an  effort  to  make  himself  understood.  Just  at  the  last, 
when  no  one  supposed  him  conscious,  some  one  mentioned  his 
absent  wife  and  daughter,  who  were  hurrying  home  but  could 
not  reach  him.  His  eye  missed  them  ;  one  tear  trickled  down 
his  cheek;  it  was  wiped  away;  another  came;  it  was. all  he 
gave  to  earth.  His  face  during  the  last  day  and  night  was 
peaceful  as  an  angel's,  and  in  the  morning  of  the  resurrection 
will  hardly  wear  a  more  heavenly  expression." 

He  was  often  urged  by  his  family  to  leave  Danville,  at  least 
for  a  time,  and  get  away  from  the  poisoned  atmosphere  he  had 


CAUSE   OF  HIS  ILLNESS.  61 

been  so  long  breathing ;  for  they  saw  that  he  was  not  well, 
and  was  reeling  under  double  burdens.  To  the  expostulations 
of  friends  and  the  remonstrances  of  physicians  he  made  but  one 
reply- -he  felt  himself  in  no  danger,  his  duty  required  him  to 
remain  at  his  post,  the  interests  of  the  college  demanded  his 
presence,  especially  as  two  of  the  professors  were  gone.  The 
exercises  of  the  college  were  never  suspended,  though  the 
building  was  used  as  a  hospital.  It  mattered  not  how  great 
was  the  excitement  in  the  town,  he  still  went  on  with  the 
work  of  instruction,  even  supplying  the  place  of  the  absent 
teachers.  He  also  continued  to  preach,  although  his  clothing 
would  be  drenched  with  perspiration  after  every  effort ;  and  to 
teach,  though  often  so  unwell  as  to  receive  his  classes  in  his 
bedroom.  Insensible  still  to  his  danger,  he  remarked  but  a  few 
days  before  his  sudden  and  fatal  attack,  that  his  brain  had 
never  in  his  life  been  so  clear  and  active,  and  that  the  only 
effort  required  in  preaching  was  to  check  the  rush  of  thought 
long  enough  to  clothe  it  with  expression.  It  is  evident  that 
the  feverish,  excited  condition  of  nerves  and  brain  in  which 
he  had  been  living  for  more  than  a  year,  the  state  of  tension 
in  which  his  system  was  kept  by  the  troubled  condition  of  the 
country,  and  the  heavy  draughts  made  upon  his  strength, 
proved  too  much  for  the  delicate  frame,  and  he  fell  an  easy 
prey  to  the  malaria. 

Instead  of  spending  his  vacations  in  quest  of  that  rest  and 
relaxation  w^hich  his  system  required,  he  had  invariably  kept 
himself  at  work  even  when  changing  from  place  to  place,  either 
raising  college  endowments,  or  pleading  the  cause  of  education 
before  the  public,  or  preaching  as  opportunity  offered.  As  a 
consequence,  preaching,  talking,  writing,  travelling  in  behalf 
of  his  work,  formed  a  part  of  his  regidar  summer  recreations. 
He  enjoyed  little  of  the  repose  needed  to  recuperate  the 
exhausted  energies  of  so  nervous  a  temperament.  Xot  that  he 
was  ever  unduly  urged  to  exertion  of  any  kind;  on  the  con- 
trary, so  warm  and  tender  was  the  interest  he  excited,  that 
every  influence  was  employed  to  induce  him  to  treasure  his 
strength.     His  activity  both  mental  and  physical  was  so  great, 


62  INCESSANT   ACTIVITY. 

that  he  did  not  in  fact  know  bow  to  stop,  and  had  never 
trained  himself  to  the  habit  of  taking  refreshing  rest.  Work 
had  become  the  law  of  his  being,  and  he  w^ould  continue  to  work 
till  he  sank  from  exhaustion.  This  was  the  case  to  the  last. 
The  warning  example  of  others,  and  the  repetition  of  violent 
attacks  of  illness  produced  no  effect.  He  w^as  deceived  as  to 
his  own  strength.  He  w^ould  not  have  w^asted  life,  had  he  seen 
what  he  was  doing.  To  no  man  was  earth  more  beautiful, 
life,  with  home,  and  kindred,  and  friends,  and  country  more 
dear.  He  did  not  know  that  the  spirit  had  triumphed  over  its 
frail  tenement,  and  was  chafingr  to  be  free.  He  ima2:ined  all 
was  well,  because  his  mind  was  so  clear  and  worked  so  vigor- 
ously. And  the  stroke  that  felled  him  Avas  so  quick  and  sharp, 
that  no  time  was  given  to  be  undeceived. 

Every  thing  around  him  contributed  to  the  heavy  drain  upon 
his  mind,  his  thoughts,  and  his  sympathies.  While  his  own 
heart  was  troubled  and  saddened  almost  to  breaking  at  the 
prospect  of  a  still  further  protraction  of  the  dreadful  civil  war, 
he  was  the  comforter  to  whom  sorrowing  friends  and  neigh- 
bors turned  for  consolation  in  those  dark  sad  days.  Only  a 
few  days  before  his  illness,  he  called  to  see  a  lady  who  was  in 
deep  distress;  and  when  struck  with  his  feeble  and  tired 
appearance,  she  inquired,  "How  are  you,  this  morning,  doc- 
tor ?  "  "  Faint,  yet  pursuing,  madam  ;  faint,  yet  pursuing  ;'* 
was  his  characteristic  reply.  The  answer  seemed  but  a  fitting 
epitome  of  his  life.  "  Abont  this  time,"  says  his  daughter — the 
one  who  was  with  him  in  his  last  illness,  and  shared  so  deeply 
in  all  his  thoughts  and  feelings,  "  I  attended  with  him  the 
funeral  of  an  old  friend,  and  remember,  during  the  prayer 
offered  by  another  minister,  tlie  pang  that  shot  through  me,  as 
my  eyes  unconsciously  rested  on  the  face  of  my  father.  He 
was  sitting  with  his  eyes  closed  and  his  head  thrown  back  and 
resting  upon  the  folding  doors  that  separated  the  rooms.  Who 
will  be  next  ?  flnshed  through  my  mind.  I  did  not  think  of 
him  in  that  connection.  I  only  saw  there  was  too  little  of  the 
earthly  in  his  countenance,  and  too  much  of  that  which,  resting 
on  it  as  a  halo  of  spiritual  beauty,  lured  my  mind  to  another 


LAST   SERMONS.  63 

world ;  and  it  gave  me  pain  ;  I  could  not  tell  why.  But  the 
thought  that  he  would  be  taken  so  soon  could  find  no  entrance 
to  my  mind." 

It  is  interesting  in  this  connection  to  notice  the  tone  and  char- 
acter of  Dr.  Green's  pulpit  ministrations,  as  he  approached  the 
terminus  of  life.  From  the  very  opening  of  the  war,  there  was 
a  marked  change  in  his  preaching.  It  savored  less  of  the  things 
of  time,  and  more  of  the  great  things  of  eternity.  Onward 
through  the  stormy  days  of  1862  and  1863,  even  to  the  close 
of  life,  it  became  more  and  more  spiritual,  more  and  more 
evangelical  and  pungent.  He  preached  as  one  standing  on  the 
borders  of  the  eternal  world,  awed,  subdueJ,  and  chastened  by 
the  judgments  of  the  Almighty  which  were  abroad  in  the  land. 
His  office  as  an  educator  had  led  him  through  life,  to  preach 
much  in  behalf  of  great  temporal  interests,  education,  the  ad- 
vancement of  learning,  philosophy,  science,  literature,  liberty,  and 
the  well-being  of  the  common  country.  But  now  his  thoughts 
were  chiefly  bent  on  the  grand  essentials  of  the  cross,  and  the 
necessity  of  a  holy  life,  and  preparation  to  stand  before  God. 
At  the  time  of  his  death  he  was  engaged  in  delivering  a  series 
of  discourses  on  the  Last  Judgment.  The  very  last  sermon  he 
preached  was  on  the  text,  "  Stand  in  awe,  and  sin  not,"  which 
well  defines  the  general  tenor  and  aim  of  all  his  sermons  during 
these  closing  years  of  his  ministry. 

Fools  rush  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread.  But  this  good  man, 
humbled,  appalled,  and  overwhelmed  by  the  judgments  of  the 
Almighty  upon  his  beloved  country,  and  upon  the  people  whom 
he  had  labored  so  long  to  elevate  and  bless,  now  set  himself  to 
the  task  of  preaching  to  them  the  unsearchable  riches  and  the 
consolations  of  Christ.  The  exceeding  sinfulness  of  sin,  God's 
hatred  of  and  determination  to  punish  it,  Christ  the  strong 
tower  of  defence  against  all  human  calamities,  Christ  the 
Rock  of  Ages  in  whose  cleft  the  bleeding  hearts  around  him 
might  find  safety ;  Christ  the  great  Physician  of  souls,  the  ten- 
der Shepherd,  the  gentle  Saviour,  the  living  friend ;  Christ 
the  shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land,  the  refuge  from 
the  windy  storm  and  tempest ;  Christ,  when  there  is  sorrow 


64  LAST  LETTERS/ 

upon  the  sea,  and  the  troubled  waters  cannot  rest — became  the 
ceaseless  and  all-absorbing  burden  of  his  message.  "  Not  often," 
says  one  who  beard  him  at  this  time,  "  do  we  listen  to  sucb 
tender  entreaty,  to  sucb  melting  api^eals,  to  such  thundering 
denunciation  of  sin,  and  such  searching  of  the  heart,  laying 
bare  its  secrets  as  by  sheet  lightning,  and  flashing  through  the 
soul  some  awed  sense  of  its  actual  depravity.  And  through 
the  whole,  it  seemed  as  if  this  earth  was  not  his  home.  Even 
then  his  pure  soul  was  pluming  its  pinions  for  the  heavenly 
flight." 

His  letters  to  his  family  and  friends  during  this  period,  were 
filled  with  remarks  upon  tlie  war  and  the  condition  of  the 
country.  "With  a  full  foresight  of  the  evils  which  were  coming, 
he  counselled  moderation  and  forbearance,  one  toward  another, 
and  sought  to  prepare  all  hearts  for  the  worst  by  drawing  them 
more  closely  to  Christ.  In  a  letter  to  a  brother  minister  writ- 
ten only  a  few  months  before  his  death,  describing  the  fearful 
calamities  of  the  times,  he  says — "  What  shall  the  Christian 
minister  do?  Bow  in  awe,  in  penitence,  in  deep  s6rrow  and 
compassion  for  his  race,  in  earnest  prayer,  and  humble  trem- 
bling trust,  before  God.  Pity — sincerely,  tenderly,  forgivingly 
pity — the  madness  of  the  people  ;  partake  none  of  their  mutual 
hatred ;  love  and  pray  for  all ;  preach  Christ  more  than  ever. 
Surely,  it  becomes  us  now,  as  ministers,  more  than  ever  to 
preach  Christ  and  him  crucified,  solemnly,  earnestly,  afiection- 
ately,  simply,  exclusively,  seeing  the  time  is  short."  To  an 
absent  daughter,  he  writes  in  the  same  spirit.  "I  think  much 
and  anxiously  about  you ;  but  what  a  blessing  it  will  be,  if 
these  passing  troubles  lead  us  to  cling  closer  to  the  cross  and 
the  Saviour.  It  is  not  easy  to  withdraw  our  minds  from  the 
merely  worldly  view  of  the  calamities,  national  and  individual; 
but  it  is  possible,  and  I  often  get  a  more  solemn  view  of  God's 
providential  government,  and  the  dreadful  evil  of  sin,  from 
these  than  from  any  other  source.  But  then,  there  is  a  sweet  peace 
in  feeling  that  we  are  in  his  hands,  and  that  all  his  purposes 
toward  us  are  love.  I  was  filled  with  deep  horror  at  the  sen- 
timents expressed,  by  men  of  all  classes,  on  the  cars  and  at 


■^         ON   THE   ^'AR.  65 

liotels.  liUthless  vengeance,  total  extermination,  they  say,  is 
becoming  the  general  feeling.  'It  is  working  admirably,' 
said  a  man,  '  toward  that  point.'  God  sometimes  allows 
sncli  fiendish  pm*poses  to  prevail:  but  never  without  tenfold 
retribution.  Amidst  these  horrors  present  and  prospective, 
let  us  flee  to  our  sure  refuge,  until  these  calamities  be  over- 
past." 

In  a  letter  to  liis  daughter  written  a  few  months  before  his 
death,  and  in  the  prospect  of  seeing  Kentucky  soon  the  seat  of 
war,  lie  writes — "In  this  awful  visitation  we  must  recognize 
the  hand  of  a  righteous  and  terrible  God,  and  bow  in  penitence 
and  reverence  before  him,  pitying  our  poor  fallen  race,  and 
trembling  in  view  of  His  judgments  when  abroad  in  the  land. 
What  may  fall  on  any  of  us  at  any  time  no  man  can  foresee. 
To  one  who  abhors  and  pities  the  madness  of  both  parties,  and 
sees  in  the  success  of  either,  only  a  diiferent  form  of  ruin ; 
silence  and  sorrow  are  the  only  course  left  open.  Pray  for 
this  land  bleeding  by  the  wounds  her  own  sons  have  inflicted, 
and  for  the  church  distracted  and  rendered  worldly,  and  sin- 
ners perishing  without  thought  of  God.  Let  these  scenes  be 
but  sanctified  to  make  us  better  and  wiser." 

In  letters  to  his  wife,  written  about  this  time,  he  unbosoms 
his  feelings  still  more  fully,  showing  what  position  he  occupied, 
and  with  what  spirit  he  sought  to  discharge  the  sacred  func- 
tions of  his  ministry,  even  to  the  last.  To  ]Mrs.  Green  he 
writes,  "Civil  war  in  Kentucky  is  now,  I  fear,  inevitable. 
We  ought  to  realize  its  enormous  evil  and  sin,  but  not  exag- 
gerate them  ;  above  all,  not  aggravate  them,  in  our  own  circle, 
by  partaking  in  its  passions,  or  irritating,  uselessly,  either  of  the 
parties.  All  reasoning  in  such  cases  is  folly ;  we  must  accept 
the  situation  and  be  concerned  only  to  do  our  duty.  Of  the 
terrible  times  which  are  coming,  and  are  even  now  come,  I 
think  Christian  duty,  and  ordinary  Christian  feeling  and  dis- 
cretion, suggest  the  following  plain  and  undoubted  principles 
for  the  guidance  of  our  course.  First,  very  solemnly  (and  the 
more  solemnly  the  more  calmly)  realize  the  full  measure  of  the 
evil  that  is  upon  us,  and  stand  in  awe,  deep  awe  and  reveren- 


66  CHRISTIAN  SENTIMENTS. 

tial  submission,  before  God ;  and  tlnis  prepare  to  stand  in  our 
lot,  and  serve  our  generation,  according  to  tbe  will  of  God — 
quietly,  prayerfully,  cbeerfully.  I  am  persuaded  we  liave  seen 
but  the  beginning  of  evil,  and  if  there  be  any  substance  in  us, 
by  grace  or  nature,  now  is  the  occasion  to  exercise  and  prove  it. 
Let  petty  troubles  and  grievances  real  or  imaginary  be  forgot- 
ten, or  spurned  away,  amidst  these  appalling  dangers  to  all. 
Second,  partake  not  at  all  in  the  passions  of  either  party.  Both 
are  wrong  in  many  points — altogether  wrong  in  their  mutual 
hatred.  But  a  mad  bull  would  not  be  more  impervious  to  rea- 
son, or  more  ferocious  in  his  resentment  of  any  interference, 
than  both,  and  with  equal  sincerity.  For  each  can  make  good 
a  long,  black  catalogue  of  wrong  things  done  by  the  leaders  or 
zealots  of  the  other  side.  Pity,  forgiveness,  wonder,  sadness, 
and  sincere  sympathy  with  all  the  sufferers  on  either  side,  are 
the  only  emotions  which  one  untainted  with  the  poison  can 
properly  feel.  Things  must  now  run  their  course  ;  and  it  is  the 
most  childish  imbecility  to  fret  or  repine,  or  attempt  to  influ- 
ence that  course.  Amidst  much  that  I  could  have  wished  oth- 
erwise, yet  I  cannot  but  consider  the  men  who  adhere  to  the 
Union,  and  the  repeated  decisions  of  the  majority  of  our  people, 
as  the  safest  and  best.  But  do  not  argue,  do  not  resent,  all 
are  mad.  There  is  but  one  thing  left  for  me,  for  us — to  soothe 
by  gentleness  and  love  these  asperities  of  feeling  ;  to  learn  and 
lay  to  heart  the  stern  but  necessary  lesson  God  is  teaching  us, 
and  so  to  adorn  the  doctrine  of  the  Saviour,  that  when  (if  in 
our  life)  these  calamities  are  over-past,  we  may  have  the  love 
and  confidence  of  all." 

The  foregoing  extracts,  which  might  have  been  largely 
increased,  will  be  sufficient  to  illustrate  his  sentiments  and  feel- 
ings as  he  beheld  the  dark  clouds  of  war  gathering  thicker  and 
thicker  over  his  beloved  country.  If  ever  an  American  bosom 
beat  with  a  pure  and  lofty  patriotism  it  was  his.  ^ext  to  his 
devotion  to  the  church  of  God  was  his  attachment  to  tliis  hmd 
of  his  birth.  But  ere  these  portentous  clouds  were  broken, 
his  tried  and  sorrowing  spirit  had  passed  to  a  world  where  sin 
and  sorrow  are  unknown. 


LAST   WORKS   OF   LOYE.  67 

If  it  be  indeed  the  crowning  glory  of  the  just,  that  his  path 
shineth  brighter  and  brigliter  to  the  perfect  day,  that  blessed 
and  glorious  distinction  was  his.  It  was  a  source,  not  only  of 
gratitude,  but  of  sweet  delight  to  his  family  and  friends,  to 
know  that  the  purity  and  elevation  of  his  character  shone  re- 
splendently  in  the  extreme  hour  of  test  and.  trial.  When 
Kentucky  was  convulsed  with  dissensions  in  every  church, 
every  neighborhood,  and  almost  every  family,  to  a  degree  of 
which  the  united  North  and  united  South  knew  but  little,  that 
wisdom  which  coraetli  down  from  above,  which  is  first  pure, 
and  then  peaceable,  gentle  and  ea^y  to  be  entreated,  shed  its 
mild  radiance  over  the  closing  days  of  a  life  ended  in  storms. 
Shaking  from  himself  the  dust  of  the  strife,  and  girding  on 
afresh  his  spiritual  armor,  refusing  to  echo  the  violence  of  any 
party,  and  letting  his  moderation  be  known  to  all  men,  he 
went  in  and  out  amid  the  fierce  partisans,  calming  the  bitter- 
ness, and  softening  the  asperities  of  faction,  and  curbing,  not 
ministering  to,  the  conflicting  passions  of  an  excited  commu- 
nity, comforting  the  bereaved  of  all  classes,  soothing  the  suffer- 
ing and  afflicted,  and  arousing  the  souls  around  him  to  some 
vivid  conception  of  the  awful  judgments  of  God.  Such  was 
the  work — such  the  blessed  ministry  of  love  and  mercy  in 
which  this  great  and  good  man  spent  his  last  days  on  earth, 
wore  his  life  away,  and  fell  as  the  true  soldier  of  Christ  would 
ever  wish  to  fall,  a  martyr  to  duty. 

The  funeral  services  at  his  death  were  held  in  the  First  Pres- 
byterian Church  of  Danville,  attended  by  a  large  concourse  of 
citizens,  and^the  students  and  faculties  of  the  college  and  theolo- 
gical seminary.  An  appropriate  and  eloquent  discourse,  from 
the  text,  "  I  have  fouglit  a  good  fight,  I  have  finislied  my  course, 
I  have  kept  the  faith,"  was  preached  by  the  Rev.  Robert  G. 
Brank,  of  Lexington,  in  which,  after  recounting  the  distin- 
guished services,  the  varied  lea"ning,  the  shining  virtues  and 
eloquence  of  the  deceased,  the  preacher  made  a  touching  appli- 
cation to  the  members  of  the  diurch  of  which  he  had  once  been 
pastor,  and  to  the  students  of  the  college  over  which  he  had  so 
lately  presided.     Rev.  Wm.  J.  McKnight,  the  acting  pastor  of 


68  FmSTERAL  SERVICES. 

the  church,  also  took  part  in  these  funeral  services.  At  the 
conclusion  of  these  impressive  solemnities  at  the  church,  an 
immense  procession  of  persons  in  carriages,  on  horseback,  and 
on  foot,  followed  his  mortal  remains  to  the  grave,  all  the  busi- 
ness houses  of  the  place  being  closed.  His  body  was  laid  to 
rest  in  the  cemetery  at  Danville,  there  to  await  the  resurrec- 
tion of  the  blest.  To  the  college,  to  the  church,  to  the  commu- 
nity, to  the  State,  the  loss  was  great,  to  his  family  irreparable. 
But  to  him  the  change  was  eternal  gain.  "  And  1  heard  a 
voice  from  heaven,  saying  unto  me,  write,  Blessed  are  the  dead 
which  die  in  the  Lord,  from  henceforth,  yea,  saith  the  Spirit, 
that  they  may  rest  from  their  labors,  and  their  works  do  follow 
them." 

A  few  weeks  after  his  death,  a  public  meeting  of  the  Second 
Presbyterian  Church  of  Danville,  of  which  he  had  been  pastor, 
was  held  to  express  their  sense  of  the  bereavement,  and  their 
grateful  appreciation  of  his  services.  A  minute  was  adopted, 
which  after  reciting  the  principal  events  of  his  life,  and  the 
several  offices  he  had  held,  in  different  parts  of  the  country, 
closes  with  the  following  paragraj^h  and  resolutions  : — 

"  Few  ministers  of  the  Gospel  in  our  country  have  held  so  large  a  number  of 
important,  useful,  and  responsible  positions.  It  is  to  be  especially  noticed  that 
he  abandoned  those  previously  occupied,  to  accept  one  stiU  more  important, 
only  at  the  call  of  the  Synod  to  which  he  belonged,  or  that  of  the  General 
Assembly,  or  of  the  trustees  of  the  pubHc' institutions  in  which  he  spent  the 
greater  part  of  his  life  in  the  service  of  education,  both  secular  and  theological. 
Therefore, 

''Resolved,  1st.  That  in  the  death  of  the  Rev.  Lewis  "W.  Green,  D.  D.,  the 
Presbyterian  Church  of  the  United  States  has  lost  one  of  its  ablest,  most  hon- 
ored, and  most  useful  ministers — one  who  had  spent  a  whole  life-time  in 
the  service  of  the  educational  interests  of  the  church,  and  the  training  of  young 
men  for  the  Gospel  ministry. 

"  2d.  That  the  congregation  mourn  his  loss  as  an  able,  faithful,  and  eloquent 
preacher  of  the  Gospel,  and  as  far  as  his  official  duties  permitted,  a  sympathiz- 
ing and  diUgent  pastor,  ever  ready  to  administer  comfort  to  the  afflicted,  and 
instruction  to  those  needing  or  desiring  it. 

"3d.  That  they  tender  to  his  family  their  tenderest  sympathy  and  condo- 
lence for  his  death,  especially  under  circumstances  so  peculiarly  trying  and 
painful." 


RESOLUTIONS  ON   HIS   DEATH.  69 

The  following  paper  from  the  records  of  the  college  may  be 
subjoined,  as  serving  to  show  the  estimation  in  which  he  was 
held  by  his  colleagues  of  the  faculty. 

"  At  a  meeting  of  the  Faculty  of  Centre  College,  held  May  28,  18G3,  the 
following  Preamble  and  Resolutions  were  adopted  : — 

"  Whereas  an  all-wise  though  mysterious  Providence  has  seen  fit  to  remove 
from  uSf  by  death,  the  Rev.  L.  W.  Green,  D.  D.,  for  nearly  six  years  the  Presi- 
dent of  this  institution ;  therefore, 

"  Resolved,  That  in  this  dispensation  of  Divine  Providence  we  recognize  the 
will  of  Him,  whose  ways  are  not  as  our  ways ;  whose  path  is  in  the  great  waters, 
and  whose  footsteps  are  not  known. 

^^  Resolved,  That  in  the  removal  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Green  from  the  superintend- 
ence of  this  institution.  Centre  College  has  lost  one  of  its  oldest  and  warmest 
friends ;  one  who  had  devoted  himself  to  the  furtherance  of  its  welfare  as,  next 
to  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel,  the  great  work  of  his  life,  and  one  whose  labors, 
during  the  brief  period  so  suddenly  terminated,  had  been  eminently  successful 
in  the  promotion  of  its  interest. 

'^Resolced,  That  Dr.  Green  is  entitled  to  the  grateful  remembrance  of  the 
friends  of  Centre  College  for  the  wisdom  with  which,  especially  in  the  time  of 
trial  through  which  the  institution  has  recently  been  called  to  pass,  he  guided 
its  course  amidst  surrounding  difficulties ;  and  for  the  cheerfulness  with  which 
he  undertook  and  discharged  duties  that  doubled  his  labors  as  an  instructor — 
labors  which,  we  fear,  must  have  overtasked  the  energies  of  his  exhausted 
frame. 

"  Resolved,  Tliat  while  we  profoundly  feel  the  loss  which  the  College,  the 
Church,  and  the  Community  have  sustained  in  the  decease  of  Rev.  Dr.  Green, 
we  cherish  also  the  conviction,  that,  released  as  he  has  been  from  a  life  of 
labor,  cheerfully  imdertaken  and  faithfully  performed  in  the  service  of  God, 
ours  only  is  the  loss  and  his  the  infinite  reward. 

''Resolved,  That  we  tender  to  the  family  of  Dr.  Green  the  assurance  of  our 
deepest  sympathy  in  their  sudden  and  sore  bereavement ;  while  we  pray  that 
the  God  of  all  cbmfort  would  sustain  them  with  the  consolations  that  transcend 
all  human  sympathies. 

'-Resolved,  That  a  copy  of  these  resolutions  be  transmitted  to  the  family  of 
Dr.  Green." 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

Review  of  his  Public  Services. — Estimate  of  his  Preaching. — Prominent  Traits 
of  Character. — His  Fervor. — High  Sense  of  Honor. — Conscientiousness. — 
His  Beneficence. — His  Learning  and  Eloquence. — His  Excellence  as  an 
Instructor. — Influence  as  a  College  President. — Testimony  of  Dr.  Dab- 
ney. — His  Strong  Points. — His  Elevated  Tastes  and  Studies. — His  Love  of 
Books. — His  Religious  Devotion. — Personal  Appearance. — His  Pohshed 
Manners. — Easy  Address. — Tact  in  Conversation. — Ministries  of  Love 
and  Mercy. 

The  foregoing  narrative  of  Dr.  Green's  career  will  be  sufficient 
to  show  in  what  demand  his  services  were  held  by  the  public, 
and  what  reputation  he  had  won,  both  as  a  preacher  and  a 
practical  educator.  His  career  began  and  ended  at  Danville, 
but  between  its  opening  and  its  close  it  had  swept  a  wide  com- 
pass of  useful  labors.  He  had  strong  personal  aptitudes  and 
affinities  for  the  pastoral  office,  and  loved  above  all  things  the 
work  of  preaching  the  Gospel.  But  God  had  led  him  through 
a  long  period  into  fields  of  labor  where  teaching,  rather  than 
preaching,  was  his  immediate  business.  With  the  exception 
of  his  brief  pastorate  at  Baltimore,  for  thirty  years  he  was 
constantly  engaged  in  the  active  service  of  instruction,  either 
as  a  professor  or  as  president  of  some  institution  of  learning. 
During  all  this  time,  he  never  ceased  to  exercise  the  appropri- 
ate functions  of  his  ministry.  Few  men  preached  more.  And 
when  he  did  preach,  it  was  on  the  essential  doctrines  and  duties 
of  the  Gospel,  which  he  pressed  with  all  his  might  on  the  con- 
sciences of  men.  Considering  the  amount  of  time  he  spent  in 
the  work  of  teaching,  and  considering  also  the  state  of  his 
health,  which  was  never  robust,  his  ministry  was  a  laborious 
one  ;  and  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  it  was  the  means  of  turning 
many  to  righteousness. 

But  it  was  chiefly  through  the  responsible  positions  he  occu- 


ESTIMATE   OF  HIS   PREACHING.  71 

pied  in  colleges  and  seminaries  that  he  exerted,  both  as  an 
educator  and  a  minister,  his  most  important  influence  upon  the 
clmrch  and  the  country. 

By  all  who  knew  him,  he  was  regarded  as  one  of  the  strong 
men  of  the  church,  competent  to  represent  and  defend  her, 
whether  from  the  pulpit  or  the  press.  His  learning  was  accu- 
rate and  extended,  the  result  of  careful  reading  and  constant 
reflection,  early  begun  and  long  continued.  Far  more  than  is 
usual  in  the  ministry,  he  ranged  beyond  the  limits  of  profes- 
sional study,  keeping  himself  fully  abreast  with  the  science  and 
liteiatureof  the  times.  Whenever  he  preached  he  was  listened 
to  with  rapt  attention  by  crowded  audiences,  especially  by  the 
educated  classes,  and  by  young  men,  who  were  attracted  by 
the  originality  and  grandeur  of  his  conceptions,  the  startling 
boldness  of  his  imagery,  and  the  enthusiastic  ardor  of  his  man- 
ner. He  was  a  man  who  could  do  nothing  by  halves,  could  say 
nothing  by  halves.  His  convictions  of  truth  and  duty  were  all 
positive — all  clear,  settled,  immovable.  The  truth  with  him 
was  all  and  every  thing.  When  he  took  his  position  on 
any  subject,  he  was  ready  to  maintain  it  against  all  the  world. 
His  moral  courage  was  of  the  highest  order,  because  founded 
on  the  most  intense  convictions  of  truth.  He  had  much  of  the 
ingenium  perfervidum  Scotorum.  Xo  man  perhaps  ever  held 
his  opinions  with  a  firmer  grasp,  or  expressed  them  in  a  tone 
of  more  absolute  assurance.  There  was  an  elevation  of  tone,  a 
certain  loftiness  of  view,  a  range  and  grandeur  of  thought,  in 
all  his  public  performances,  and  even  in  his  daily  conversation, 
which  indicated  a  mind  in  perpetual  communion  with  the  great 
things  of  God's  salvation. 

These  and  other  striking  characteristics,  with  his  large  sym- 
pathies, his  gospel  unction,  and  his  impassioned,  extemporane- 
ous delivery,  rendered  him  at  all  times  a  popular  and  much 
admired  preacher.  All  who  heard  him,  recognized  at  once  a 
man  of  superior  intellect,  and  a  minister  not  unworthy  of  his 
higli  vocation  as  God's  ambassador.  He  had  an  inexhaustible 
flow  both  of  thought  and  diction.  His  style  was  dilfuse,  classic, 
ornate,  and  full  of  those  forms  of  expression  which  marked  the 


72  TRAITS  OF   CHARACTER. 

/ 
play  of  a  vivid  imagination.     His  mind  teemed  Avitli  images  of 

grandeur.  His  fertile,  brilliant  fancy,  revelling,  as  with  a  poet's 
or  an  artist's  eye,  on  scenes  of  sublimity  and  beauty,  gave  a 
gorgeous  coloring  to  his  language,  and  at  times  seemed  almost 
to  overshadow  his  other  foculties.  By  some,  this  was  regarded 
as  a  fault,  and  as  scarcely  in  keeping  with  the  simplicity  of  the 
pulpit.  A  severe  critic  can  no  doubt  find  something  to  disap- 
prove on  this  score  in  his  j^ublislied  sermons.  But  it  must  be 
borne  in  mind,  that  the  lofty  and  gorgeous  diction  which 
marked  his  pulpit  performances,  was  in  harmony  with  the  mag- 
nificent themes  which  he  handled,  and  the  wealth  of  thought 
which  he  lavished  upon  them.  AYe  can  forgive  a  fault  of  mere 
taste,  when  it  stands  in  the  presence  of  so  many  substantial 
excellences.  They  are  but  spots  on  the  sun.  In  the  language 
of  one  who  knew  and  loved  him  Avell — "  He  was  a  man  of 
genius,  of  learning  and  piety,  eminently  a  good  man,  though 
subject  to  the  defects  and  faults  of  fervid  genius  and  bril- 
liant fancy. 

Nothing  perhaps  was  more  prominent  in  the  whole  career  of 
Dr.  Green,  than  his  high  sense  of  honor,  his  superiority  to  every 
thing  mean  and  selfish,  and  his  large-hearted  beneficence.  He 
sometimes  failed  to  be  appreciated  by  the  selfish  and  ambitious, 
just  because  they  could  not  comprehend  the  purity  and  eleva- 
tion of  his  motives.  They  thought  him  an  abstractionist  or  a 
visionary,  only  because  he  was  living  so  far  above  the  range  of 
worldly  men.  Yet  his  extreme  conscientiousness  and  adher- 
ence to  principle,  never  unfitted  him  for  the  practical  duties  of 
life,  or  interfered  in  the  least  with  the  genial  flow  of  all  those 
social  and  domestic  virtues  which  made  his  intercourse  delight- 
ful to  all  his  friends.  He  was  as  practical  as  he  was  conscien- 
tious. He  lived  in  the  world,  though  not  of  it,  and  far  above 
it.  Faithfulness  to  God  as  a  steward,  the  most  uncompromis- 
ing faithfulness  in  the  discharge  of  duty,  even  in  that  which  is 
least,  was  one  of  the  cardinal  virtues  of  his  life.  When  he 
was  a  mere  youth,  his  scrupulous  honesty. displayed  itself,  in 
causing  twenty  dollars  to  be  returned  to  a  man  from  whom  an 
agent  had  purchased  a  horse  for  him  that  much  below  the 


HIS  FERVID   ELOQUENCE.  73 

value.  Having  inherited  an  estate  which  he  regarded  as  a 
competency,  he  determined,  after  entering  the  ministry,  to 
devote  the  whole  income  received  from  the  church  for  his  ser- 
vices, to  beneficent  purposes.  This  decision  he  carried  out  with 
faithful  exactness.  When  necessity  compelled  him  to  use  for 
private  purposes  any  part  of  his  salary,  he  would  in  the  fol- 
lowing year  or  years  refund  through  some  channel  all  that 
had  been  thus  temporarily  appropriated ;  and  so  well  did  he 
balance  his  accounts  with  his  Master,  that  a  few  months  before 
his  last  illness  he  informed  one  of  his  children,  that  of  all  he 
had  ever  received  in  the  world,  whether  from  a  salary  or  other 
sources,  one-half  had  been  given  in  one  form  or  another  to  the 
church.  This  large  and  long-continued  beneficence,  as  unos- 
tentatious as  it  was  unusual,  demonstrates  how  unselfish  and 
complete  had  been  his  consecration  to  God. 

By  his  scholarly  culture,  his  enthusiastic  zeal  in  the  cause  of 
education,  and  his  impressive  eloquence  in  the  pulpit,  Dr. 
Green  was  eminently  fitted  to  fill  the  position  of  president  of 
a  college.  He  had  the  important  gift,  essential  to  all  success- 
ful educators,  of  imparting  his  own  enthusiasm  to  his  pupils. 
He  took  large  and  exalted  views  of  truth  and  duty,  appeal- 
ing to  every  manly  and  noble  sentiment,  and  clothing  his 
thoughts  in  a  style  of  sublimity  and  beauty  well  calculated  to 
strike  the  ingenuous  minds  of  youth.  The  fine  play  of  his  pro- 
lific imagination,  the  bold,  free,  extemporaneous  delivery,  the 
rich  exuberance  of  his  matter,  rendered  his  preaching  as  well 
as  his  lectures  exceedingly  attractive  to  his  students.  He 
loved  his  high  vocation  as  a  minister  of  God  ;  he  also  loved  and 
magnified  his  office  as  an  instructor  of  youth.  In  enthusiastic 
ardor  for  the  higher  learning,  in  the  ability  to  communicate 
that  ardor  to  the  minds  of  others,  and  in  his  warm  fellow-feel- 
ing for  the  young,  no  man  in  our  country  has  perhaps  ever 
excelled  him.  His  pupils  at  Hampden  Sidney  and  at  Danville 
loved  him  like  a  f  ither.  And  the  secret  of  their  affection  was 
that  he  regarded  and  treated  them  as  if  they  had  been  his  sons. 
He  won  the  good,  he  both  conquered  and  won  the  bad,  by 
kindness.  He  well  expressed  his  theory  on  this  point,  when 
4 


74  ABILITY  AS   A   TEACHER. 

he  once  .asked,  concerning  the  qualifications  of  certain  teachers, 
Avhetber  they  could  love  a  boy  in  all  his  badness  ?  These 
diversified  gifts  and  attainments — his  great  thoughts,  lofty 
diction,  impassioned  oratory,  intense  convictions,  bold  imagery, 
strong  enthusiasm,  accurate  scholarship,  wide  range  of  reading, 
deep  earnest  voice,  and  ready  willingness  to  enter  into  conver- 
sation, and  pour  out  instruction  on  almost  eveiy  branch  of 
science,  literature,  and  art — altogether,  made  him  one  of  the 
most  entertaining  of  men  to  those  who  were  under  him  in  the 
capacity  of  learners.  In  the  teacher  they  always  found  the 
sympathizing  friend  and  the  genial  companion.  In  the 
preacher  they  beheld  a  living  model  of  high  Christian  charac- 
ter, of  every  generous  liberal  sentiment,  of  every  manly  and 
noble  virtue.  Few  college  presidents  have  ever  been  more 
sincerely  loved,  more  ardently  and  reverently  admired  by  his 
alumni  than  Dr.  Green.  They  saw  in  him  only  the  great, 
good,  and  true  man,  whose  highest  aim  was  to  train  them  for 
usefulness  here  and  immortality  hereafter. 

Rev.  Dr.  R.  L.  Dabney  of  the  Union  Theological  Seminary, 
Virginia,  speaking  of  the  time  he  was  President  of  Hampden 
Sidney,  gives  the  following  estimate  of  him  :  "  As  a  teacher, 
Dr.  Green  was  undoubtedly  able,  animated,  and  successful. 
He  aroused  and  elevated  the  faculties  of  his  pujnls.  As  a 
jjreacher,  he  was  often  very  eloquent.  He  always  preached 
without  written  preparation.  His  style  Avas  ambitious,  and  his 
elocution  ardent.  He  more  often  fell  short  of  his  full  force 
(when  he  did  fall  short)  from  this  cause ;  namely — his  ardent 
disposition  led  him  to  enlarge  too  much  on  the  introductory 
parts ;  so  that  he  consumed  his  time  and  strength,  and  was 
sometimes  obliged  rather  to  huddle  up  the  more  important 
parts  near  the  close.  But  his  preaching  was  often  truly 
fine." 

The  strong  points  in  Dr.  Green's  character,  both  as  a  man 
and  a  minister,  shining  out  in  all  his  intercourse  wdth  God  and 
his  fellow-men,  and  distinguishing  his  whole  public  and  private 
life,  might  be  summed  up  in  the  following :  an  intense  con- 
sciousness of  his  responsibility  to  God,  a  realizing  assurance  of 


TASTES   AND   STUDIES.  75 

the  shortness  of  life,  the  nearness  of  eternity,  the  existence  of 
heaven  and  hell,  a  stern  and  uncompromising  setise  of  duty  on 
the  ground  of  principle,  and  an  overflowing  tenderness,  sym- 
pathy, and  love  for  every  tiling  around  him — his  family,  his 
pupils,  the  people  of  his  charge,  the  whole  brotherhood  of  man- 
kind. His  wealth  of  affection,  of  all  gentle,  generous,  and 
kindly  feelings,  was  equal  to  his  wealth  of  thought.  As  a 
pastor  and  an  educator,  he  was  to  all  under  his  care  a  father 
and  a  friend;  while  in  his  own  domestic  circle,  no  man  could 
more  fully  exemplify  the  sacred  relations  and  endearments  of 
the  Christian  home. 

One  feature,  already  adverted  to,  in  Dr.  Green's  character 
that  impressed  itself  upon  every  one  who  came  into  daily  con- 
tact with  him,  or  even  conversed  with  him  or  heard  him 
preach  but  once,  was  the  peculiar  elevation  of  his  mind.  He 
seemed  to  live  and  move  in  an  atmosphere  of  great  ideas  and 
of  noble  sentiments.  He  had  a  keen  eye  for  the  sublime  and 
beautiful  in  nature,  in  art,  in  revelation  ;  and  his  enjoyment  was 
exquisite,  whether  gazing  in  his  lonely  walks  on  the  wonder- 
ful works  of  God  in  nature,  or  holding  converse  in  his  study 
with  the  mighty  dead  of  other  ages  through  productions  of 
human  genius,  or,  rising  still  higher,  to  communion  with  God 
as  he  contemplated  the  unsearchable  riches  of  the  sacred 
word.  It  is  diificult,  by  any  mere  description,  to  give  to  one 
wlio  did  not  know  him,  a  just  conception  of  this  uniform  eleva- 
tion. In  the  pulpit,  the  moment  he  began  to  speak,  he  lifted 
his  hearers  above  the  level  of  the  common-place,  and  they  felt 
that  theyVere  on  a  new  track  and  higher  ground.  The  topic 
might  be  old,  but  the  method  was  new:  the  argument,  the 
illustration,  the  handling  all  new.  In  conversation,  especially 
Avith  scientific  persons  who  could  appreciate  the  subjects,  his 
thought  and  diction  assumed  the  same  elevated  cast.  And  in 
such  discussions  he  found  intense  enjoyment. 

Xowhere,  however,  did  he  find  a  keener  delight  than  when 
alone  in  his  study.  There,  surrounded  by  his  books,  he  thought 
out  and  prei)ared  those  trains  of  argumentation  and  aj)peal 
which  were  to  be  reproduced  in  the  pulpit  and  the  class-room, 


76  KEY-NOTE   OF   HIS  PREACHING. 

and  occasionally  to  appear  in  his  educational  and  religious 
discourses.  His  study  was  a  sanctuary  consecrated  to  thought, 
consecrated  to  communion  with  his  books  and  with  God.  He 
handled  a  book  with  the  tender  carefulness  of  a  mother  hand- 
ling her  child.  It  was  an  object  of  lore,  almost  of  reverence. 
He  never  marred  its  fresh  beauty.  Though  deeply  and  often 
studied,  there  was  nothing  save  an  occasional  pencil-mark,  to 
indicate  that  it  had  ever  been  opened.  There  were  probably 
few  better  private  collections  in  the  country.  His  library  com- 
prised more  than  three  thousand  volumes,  selected  by  himself 
with  much  care,  and  consisting  largely  of  German,  French,  and 
choice  classical  works,  with  the  standard  English  authors  in 
science  and  literature. 

But  the  fire  that  glowed  so  ardently  in  this  sanctuary  was 
not  kindled  at  the  altars  of  human  genius  and  learning  alone. 
He  was  a  man  of  prayer,  and  held  daily  communion  with  his 
God  and  Saviour.  He  had  learning,  he  had  eloquence,  but  above 
all  he  had  piety,  kindled  and  sustaitied  at  the  cross.  He  had 
the  heart  of  love,  the  unction  of  the  Divine  Spirit.  It  was 
consecrated  talent  that  gave  power  to  his  life  and  ministry. 
In  a  sermon  on  the  parable  of  the  talents,  he  struck  the  key- 
note of  all  his  preaching,  and  all  his  educational  labors,  in  the 
following  emphatic  words  :  "  If  in  this  land  of  unfettered  free- 
dom and  overflowing  prosperity,  there  be  one  necessity  more 
urgent  than  all  others,  it  is  the  demand  for  holy  talent,  the 
necessity  for  consecrated  learning.  It  is  that  men  should  rise 
up  on  our  soil,  strong  in  native  intellect,  rich  in  acquired 
learning,  filled  with  the  spirit  of  the  Lord,  to  walk  boldly  forth 
over  the  whole  field  of  human  science,  gathering  its  scattered 
riches,  digging  deep  for  its  precious  ore,  and  from  the  Babel  of 
discordant  opinions  drawing  fresh  materials  to  build  up  in  new 
glory  the  temple  of  the  Lord." 

These  were  not  words  that  should  serve  merely  as  a  sign- 
board to  direct  others.  They  were  words  of  which  his  own 
life  was  the  illustration.  He  preached  and  practised  the  Bible 
doctrine  of  consecration  in  its  integrity.  We  have  already  seen 
and  noted   his  struggles  with  the  spirit  of  worldly  ambition, 


PERSONAL  APPEARANCE.  77 

how  first  one  and  then  another  cup  of  hope  and  expectation 
was  dashed  from  his  lips,  before  he  could  make  the  surrender 
which  conscience  demanded.  But  from  that  time  no  part  of 
the  price  Avas  kept  back.  The  decision  was  unreserved,  com- 
plete. Life,  health,  substance,  all  he  had,  and  all  he  was,  gold, 
frankincense,  and  myrrh,  whatever  is  costliest  and  most  pleas- 
ant, all  were  brought  to  the  feet  of  Jesus.  And  now  looking 
back  over  his  laborious,  faithful,  and  sometimes  tearful  life,  so 
fraught  with  patience  and  self-sacrifice,  so  chastened  by  suffer- 
ing, so  subdued  to  the  humility  of  the  Gospel,  and  so  elevated 
to  its  grandeur,  we  may  say  of  him  without  sacrilege,  that  the 
zeal  of  God's  house  hath  consumed  him. 

In  personal  appearance  Dr.  Green  was  a  man  of  medium 
stature,  erect  and  well  proportioned,  though  rather  spare  in 
flesh,  of  unpretending  manners,  with  bright  dark  eyes,  a  highly 
intellectual  face,  his  dark  hair  slightly  waving  and  revealing 
an  expansive  brow.  His  countenance,  except  as  it  was  lighted 
up  in  the  glow  of  animated  conversation,  and  the  pleasant  and 
playful  pastimes  of  social  and  domestic  life,  which  had  an  unu- 
sual charm  for  him,  wore  an  expression  of  gravity  and  profound 
meditation,  as  of  a  man  whose  mind  was  habitually  engaged 
on  the  grand  themes  and  problems  of  human  knowledge.  This 
was  his  aspect  in  the  repose  of  silent  and  thoughtful  study. 
But  he  could  easily  unbend  and  disport  himself.  In  the  bosom 
of  his  family,  when  conversing  with  his  children  or  intimate 
friends,  and  in  the  social  circle,  when  stimulated  by  the  pres- 
ence of  cultivated  people,  his  face  would  light  up  as  with  a 
gleam  of -sunshine,  his  eye  twhikle  with  humor,  and  his  whole 
conversation  would  sparkle  with  flashes  of  wit  and  joyonsness. 
On  rising  to  speak  also  before  an  audience,  his  countenance 
was  often  flushed  with  the  intense  excitement  of  his  intellectual 
and  moral  powers.  In  the  progress  of  discourse  his  whole  form 
and  features  seemed  to  glow  and  dilate  to  the  utmost,  under 
the  kindling  emotions  which  filled  and  fired  his  soul.  On  such 
themes  as  man's  immortality,  and  the  redemption  of  the  cross, 
when  excited  by  the  presence  of  a  large  audience,  he  often 
preached  like  one  inspire<l. 


'^  POLISHED   MANNERS. 

Dr.  Green  was  a  noble  type  of  the  gentleman,  and  that  in 
the  highest  and  best  sense  of  the  word.  He  left  this  impres- 
sion on  all  who  knew  him.  And  there  was  another  character- 
istic about  as  strongly  marked.  He  was  a  noble  type  of  the 
Christian.  It  is  in  no  spirit  of  mere  eulogy  that  this  statement 
is  made.  All  who  ever  came  in  contact  with  him  long  enough 
to  see  what  he  was,  and  were  themselves  capable  of  apprecia- 
ting such  qualities,  know  that  the  statement  is  the  simple 
truth.  There  was  a  tone  of  gentility  and  refinement  in  his 
address,  which  gave  him  easy  access  to  ladies  and  gentlemen 
of  the  highest  social  standing,  and  attracted  such  persons  to 
his  friendship  and  to  his  pulpit  ministrations.  Wherever  he 
lived — in  Pittsburgh,  in  Baltimore,  in  Virginia,  in  Kentucky — 
and  wherever  he  travelled,  he  mingled  freely  with  the  leading 
people  of  the  country,  and  found  associates  in  men  of  science, 
in  members  of  the  learned  professions,  and  in  the  statesmen  of 
the  land,  not  less  than  among  his  own  brethren  of  the  ministry, 
and  other  classes  of  society.  And  as  to  the  depth,  earnestness, 
and  sincerity  of  his  religion — probably  there  never  was  a  man 
who  could  doubt  it,  unless  it  was  himself.  To  any  suggestion 
of  unworthy  means  or  ends,  his  invariable  reply  was  in  these 
simple  but  weighty  words,  "Honesty — humble,  downright, 
pious  honesty — is  the  only  pledge  of  success,  I  mean  permanent 
success." 

In  the  intercourse  of  society,  Dr.  Green's  manner  was  pol- 
ished and  atfiible  in  the  highest  degree.  His  kind  feeling  and 
his  easy  pleasant  address,  enabled  him  to  approach  all  classes 
of  people,  and  he  lost  no  opportunity  of  doing  them  good,  by 
speaking  a  good  word  for  his  JNIaster.  With  a  deep  insight 
into  human  nature,  and  a  nice  sense  of  propriety,  he  at  once 
won  upon  the  good  will  of  the  persons  he  met,  and  ere  they 
were  aware  he  bad  them  engaged  in  a  conversation  about 
spiritual  things.  Among  his  happiest  traits  was  the  wonderful 
facility  he  possessed  of  bringing  the  subject  of  personal  religion 
home  to  people  without  giving  offence.  The  subject  was  so 
familiar  to  him,  that  he  would  introduce  it,  and  press  it  in  the 
most  natural  and  pleasant  manner  iinaginal)le,  without  a  shadow 


CONVERSATIONAL   POWERS. 

of  the  stiffness  and  effort  that  so  often  embarrass  attempts 
of  the  kind,  made  with  the  best  intentions.  Even  in  promiscu- 
ous society,  if  the  opportunity  presented  itself,  the  tact  with 
which  he  wouUi  turn  conversation  into  that  channel  was  so 
remarkable,  that  it  seemed  as  if  nothing  else  could  have  been 
expected  of  him,  and  that  it  was  the  most  natural  and  proper 
tiling  for  him  to  talk  on  the  subject,  and  would  be  for  every- 
body else  if  equally  gifted.  His  fine  address  gave  him  great 
ascendency  over  the  young,  and  was  especially  useful  in  his 
intercourse  with  the  gay  and  worldly.  Having  mastered  them 
with  tlieir  own  weapons  of  wit  or  logic,  the  gravity  and 
earnestness  with  whicli  he  would  urge  his  advantage,  never 
failed  to  leave  a  deep  impression  of  the  man  and  his  religion, 
and  very  happy  were  the  results  in  many  instances  of  this 
way-side  preaching.  He  was  often  grieved  and  surprised  at 
the  reluctance  of  professing  Christians  to  dwell  on  these  topics. 
He  used  to  say  that  the  very  mention  of  heaven  seemed  to 
scare  some  very  good  people  almost  out  of  their  senses. 

Another  beautiful  trait  of  his  character  was  that  which  shone 
forth  in  his  visits  to  the  house  of  suffering  and  sorrow.  He  had 
known  what  it  was  to  wrestle  with  doubts  and  fears  and  mani- 
fold temptations,  and  from  his  own  deep  experience,  he  knew 
how  to  comfort  the  mourning,  the  despondent,  the  tempest- 
tossed  soul.  A  son  of  thunder  in  the  pulpit,  when  denouncing 
God's  law  against  iniquity,  he  was  equally  a  son  of  consolation 
at  the  bedside  of  the  suffering  and  the  dying.  That  deep 
spirituality  which  diffused  itself  through  all  the  associations  of 
life,  and  permeated  his  whole  nature  as  a  vital,  controlling 
principle,  made  itself  felt  with  Avondrous  power  during  seasons 
of  bereavement  and  affliction,  in  instructing,  sustaining,  and 
comforting  the  weak,  the  wavering,  the  bereaved,  and  the 
dying.  Many  a  sinking  saint,  many  a  broken-hearted  mourner, 
many  a  conscience-stricken  and  trembling  sinner,  did  he  cheer 
in  the  hour  of  anguish,  and  inspire  with  new  hopes  by  his 
fatherly  .counsels,  his  earnest  prayers,  his  faithful  presentation 
of  Gospel  truth,  and  his  voice  of  sympathy  and  love.  And 
never  during  his  whole  earthly  pilgrimage  did  these  character- 


80  LAST  DAYS. 

istics  appear  in  greater  perfection  than  during  those  last  sad 
days  at  Danville,  when  he  Avent  the  rounds  of  his  daily  minis- 
tries of  mercy  among  the  sick  and  dying,  telling  of  the  love  of 
Jesus,  and  pointing  the  trembling  soul  to  that  heaven  to  which 
he  himself  so  soon  ascended.  His  last  days  were  his  best  and 
brightest — having  least  of  earth,  and  most  of  heaven.  His 
career,  in  its  ending,  was  like  the  setting  sun,  which,  large  and 
ftill-orbed,  shines  with  its  softest  loveliest  light  as  it  leaves 
the  world. 


CHAPTEE  X. 

Dr.  Green  in  his  Family. — Members  of  his  Home  Circle. — The  Husband  and 
Father. — Intensitj'-  of  his  Affections. — Picture  of  Domestic  Happiness. — 
Description  by  Dr.  Foote. — Mrs.  Green. — Poetry. — Education  of  his  Daugh- 
ters.— Religious  Character  of  his  Correspondence. — Beautiful  Letters. 

Thus  far  we  have  conteraplated  the  character  of  Dr.  Green 
chiefly  as  it  appeared  in  his  public  and  official  relations.  After 
tracing  his  early  history,  and  his  introduction  to  the  ministry, 
we  have  seen  him  successively  in  the  pulpit,  in  the  professor's 
chair,  in  the  pastoral  office ;  and  have  pointed  out  his  work  as 
a  preacher,  as  a  theological  teacher,  and  as  president  of  three 
diffisrent  colleges. 

But  any  account  of  such  a  man  would  be  imperfect  without 
bringing  into  view  those  qualities  which  found  their  develop- 
ment in  the  more  private  relationships  of  life.  It  is  not  idle 
curiosity,  but  a  natural  and  useful  instinct,  which  prompts  us 
to  follow  a  good  man  into  his  domestic  retreats,  to  look  in  upon 
the  home  circle,  and  see  how  he  appeared  to  those  who  knew 
him  best.  Where  dwellest  thou?  was  an  inquiry  made  even 
of  the  Master.  In  the  present  case  there  are  ample  materials 
for  a  full  and  distinct  portraiture  of  Dr.  Green's  whole  interior 
life,  as  it  manifested  itself  in  his  daily  intercourse  with  those 
nearest  him,  in  the  innumera'ble  courtesies  and  graces  that 
distinguish  the  Christian  father^  husband,  and  friend. 

His  immediate  family  consisted  of  his  life's  companion  and 
two  daughters,  who  all  survived  him.  He  had  never  lost  any 
children.  No  man  could  have  been  more  blest  in  his  house- 
hold. From  the  first  he  felt  the  deepest  interest  in  the  educa- 
tion and  the  spiritual  welfare  of  his  daughters.  His  letters  to 
them,  when  absent  at  school,  are  filled  with  advice  and  direc- 
tion about  their  studies,  and  breathe  most  earnest  prayers  for 
their  salvation.  Though  he  had  them  trained  in  the  best 
4* 


82  DOMESTIC   LIFE. 

schools  of  the  country,  he  was  himself,  to  a  degree  not  often 
equaled,  their  intellectual  instructor  and  their  spiritual  guide. 
And  he  had  the  unspeakable  joy  of  seeing  them  both  at  an 
early  age  members  of  the  Presbyterian  Church. 

It  was,  indeed,  in  the  sanctuary  of  home,  when  surrounded 
by  his  family  and  friends,  that  Dr.  Green's  character  shone  with 
peculiar  lustre.  His  house  was  his  Eden,  and  he  threw  over  it 
the  joyous  radiance  of  his  own  loving  nature.  His  children 
grew  up  to  be  his  companions,  and  he  entered  into  their  feel- 
ings, sports,  and  studies  with  all  the  tenderness  of  parental 
affection.  Xothing  could  exceed  the  intensity  with  which  he 
loved  them,  and  the  attachment  with  which  he  bound  them  to 
himself  in  return.  That  intense  and  sacred  affection  with 
which,  from  infancy,  he  had  cherished  the  memory  of  his 
sainted  mother,  when  he  became  a  husband  and  a  father, 
seemed  to  be  the  very  type  and  measure  of  the  feelings  which 
clustered  around  all  the  loved  ones  at  home.  His  studies,  his 
letters,  his  prayers,  all  bore  witness  to  the  fervor  of  his  love 
for  those  whom  Providence  had  committed  to  his  care.  Those 
gentle  graces  and  virtues  which  in  all  his  intercourse  in  the 
wider  circles  of  society  made  him  the  agreeable  companion  and 
the  whole-hearted  friend,  assumed  their  intensest  glow  and 
wore  their  most  graceful  drapery  in  the  home  circle,  and  made 
him  the  life  and  joy  of  his  household. 

We  may  not  intrude  too  far  into  the  sacred  sanctuary  of 
domestic  life,  even  to  draw  a  picture  of  more  than  usual 
loveliness.  His  private  letters  when  from  home,  to  the  dif- 
ferent members  of  his  family,  reveal  a  tenderness  of  love,  a 
watchfulness  of  affection,  a  deep  solicitude  for  each  one's  salva- 
tion, a  skill  in  counsel,  a  fidelity  to  God  and  truth,  and  a  ma- 
ture and  heavenly  wisdom  which  show  their  author  to  be  one 
of  the  noblest  and  best  of  men.  One  passing  glimpse,  however, 
of  the  home  circle  and  of  the  loved  ones  there,  we  may,  without 
impropriety,  give.  It  is  in  the  descriptive  words  of  an  intimate 
friend  who  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  his  house  during  the  period 
of  his  presidency  of  Hampden  Sidney  College,  and  who  thus 
reveals  the  interior  workingrs  of  his  heart : — 


TUE  HOME   CIRCLE.  83 

"For  a  long  time,"  says  Dr.  Foote,  "I  was  doubtful  which  ruled  strongest  in 
his  heart,  the  desire  of  excellence,  or  the  affections :  and  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
ever  settled  that  question.  I  know  that  often,  very  often,  he  startled  me  by 
the  strength  of  both  these  ruling  powers,  in  a  nearness  that  forljade  their  sepa- 
ration, even  in  thought.  And  then,  where  in  earthly  things  lay  his  heart's 
treasure :  where  next,  after  the  Lord  of  Glory,  whose  love  and  fear  reigned 
strongest,  as  I  thought — where  was  the  casket  of  the  most  precious  jewel  ?  In 
his  domestic  circle  was  evidently  his  greatest  joy.  And  where  then  ?  "When 
his  daughter  just  in  girlhood  glided  in,  in  her  simple  attire,  and  modest  mien, 
and  artless  nature,  his  eye,  cheek,  his  hand,  if  not  his  voice,  whatever  might 
be  the  stage  of  our  discussion,  revealed  the  unutterable  fondness  of  his  heart. 
'Surely,'  I  have  said  to  myself,  as  the  vision  passed  before  me  like  Jesse's  son, 
*  this  is  the  priceless  jewel.'  Then  again,  when  the  little  one — there  were  but 
two — came  in,  sometimes  toddling  carelessly  along,  sometimes  running  in  glee, 
and  sometimes  gravely  and  carefully  imitating  her  mother's  step  and  air,  the 
inimitable  air  and  manner  of  loving  kindness  with  wliich  he  would  bend  to 
her — kiss  and  raise  her  to  the  settee,  and  listen  for  a  moment  if  she  had  any 
message  for  him,  and  drop  a  word  or  two — 'Oh,  there,'  I  have  thought,  'is 
the  Uttle  nestling  that  has  gone  into  the  inner  treasury.'  And  then  again, 
when  all  three  were  present,  the  mother  and  the  daughters,  the  manly  com- 
placency with  which  he  looked  upon  and  listened  to  the  wife  and  mother,  there 
was  no  doubt  she  reigned  queen  in  the  happy  family." 

Dr.  Green  was  greatly  blest  in  the  chosen  companion  of  his 
life,  and  he  felt  that  whatever  degree  of  happiness  and  success 
had  atten<led  liis  pathway  was  largely  due  to  her  influence.  In 
hearty  sympathy  witli  all  his  plans  and  purposes,  capable  of 
entering  fully  into  all  his  views  and  feelings,  and  endowed 
with  those  attributes  of  character  which  win  respect  and  friend- 
ship, Mrs.  Green  not  only  contributed  largely  to  his  influence 
in  every  field  of  his  influence,  but  by  taking  upon  herself  the 
chief  burden  of  all  domestic  cares  and  responsibilities,  enabled 
him  to  accomplish  an  amount  of  study  and  of  professional  labor 
which  otherwise  would  have  been  impossible.  The  parting 
tribute  of  the  Baltimore  church  shows  in  what  loving  apprecia- 
tion she  was  held  as  a  pastor's  wife.  And  it  is  on  record  that 
in  every  sphere  of  his  educational  labors  his  home  had  always 
been  a  centre  of  attraction  and  of  pleasant  social  intercourse  to 
his  students.  She  delighted  in  every  thing  that  could  gratify 
his  tastes  and  contribute  to  his  great  work.    Both  at  Hampden 


84  POETKY. 

Sidney  and  at  Danville  her  liouse  was  tlie  home  of  young  men, 
often  several  at  once,  studying  for  the  ministry,  and  without 
the  means  of  self-support;  and  whatever  additional  burdens 
this  entailed  were  cheerfully  borne  by  her  for  the  common 
good.  At  Allegheny  Seminary,  as  well  as  at  Hampden  Sidney 
College,  students  that  were  sick  were  taken  to  their  house  and 
kindly  nursed  until  restored  to  health. 

The  following -little  effusion,  penned  by  Dr.  Green  soon  after 
his  marriage,  and  at  a  time  when  he  expected  to  visit  Europe 
unaccompanied  by  Mrs.  Green,  reveals  the  depth  and  tender- 
ness of  feeling  with  which  he  contemplated  the  separation  ; — 

"When  on  the  bounding  wave  I  ride, 
Or  gaze  upon  the  cahn,  blue  sea, 
How  sweet  to  have  thee  at  my  side, 
And  whisper  all  my  thoughts  to  thee. 

"  When  far  from  country,  friends,  and  home, 
And  all  that  are  so  dear  to  me, 
In  pensive  solitude  I  roam. 

How  sweet  to  have  one  smile  from  thee. 

"  But  if  I  stiU  must  go  alone, 

"Whene'er  my  thoughts  may  wander  free, 
And  evening  shades  come  gathering  on 
To  tell  me  I  may  think  of  thee, 

"At  sunset,  from  some  Alpine  height, 
I'll  gaze  far  o'er  the  western  sea. 
And  proudly  think  that  parting  hght 
WiU  rise  in  glory  soon  on  thee. 

"And  while  in  distant  lands  I  rove. 

Though  friends  should  all  forgetful  be, 
I  know  that  thou  wilt  faithful  prove, 
And  kindly  still  remember  me. 

"  And  think  you  I  could  ever  slight 
Those  fond  affections  fixed  on  me  ? 
Or  ever  cease,  by  day  or  night. 

To  tliink  and  speak  and  dream  of  thee  ? 


HIS  daughtp:rs.  85 

"And  when  before  God's  throne  on  high 
I  raise  my  voice  and  bend  my  knee, 
My  fervent  prayer,  my  earnest  cry, 
My  first,  my  last,  shall  be  for  thee." 

Twenty-nine  years  of  uninterrupted  domestic  happiness — dur- 
ing which  she  had  been  his  helpej*  and  his  counsellor,  sharing 
every  thought  and  feeling  of  his  heart,  the  devoted  w^ife  and 
the  honored  mother — attested  the  wisdom  of  his  early  choice, 
and  illustrated  the  sacredness  of  that  relation  which  he  thus 
essayed  to  describe. 

As  his  daughters  grew  up,  and  were  separated  from  him  at 
school,  he  followed  them  with  his  tenderest  affections,  and  his 
correspondence  teemed  with  lessons  of  wisdom  and  experience. 
*'The  love  of  human  applause,"  writes  he  to  one  of  them,  "is 
essentially  an  unhealthy  stimulus  to  the  human  mind.  The 
severe  love  of  truth  and  knowledge,  the  calm  repose  on  God, 
and  solemn  sense  of  duty — these  are  the  principles  that  give  at 
once  stimulus  and  steadhiess  to  all.  our  energies.  "  Character," 
writes  he  to  anotlier,  "  Christian  character,  is  fixed  principle,  a 
firm  will  controlling  momentary  impulses,  self-conquest,  victory 
over  self  Character  is  our  own,  reputation  comes  from  others* 
The  former  is  the  only  sure  mode  of  gaining  the  latter,  and 
they  usually  go  together.  Wit,  wealth,  beauty,  elegance,  mod- 
esty, kind  affections,  generous  and  magnanimous  impulses,  edu- 
cation, accomplishments,  all  are  of  small  avail  for  happiness  or 
usefulness  without  character." 

The  letters  which  were  constantly  passing  between  Dr.  Green 
and  his  loved  ones  of  the  home  circle,  whenever  they  were  sep- 
arated from  one  another,  are  models  of  ease  and  elegance,  of 
the  most  sparkling  vivacity,  and  the  deepest  spirituality.  It 
was  one  of  the  pleasures  of  his  life  to  hold  this  correspondence ; 
and  he  was  unhappy  if  it  was  long  interrupted.  It  is  not  neces- 
sary to  draw  largely  here  from  these  treasures.  It  will  suffice 
to  present  a  few  brief  extracts,  simply  as  illustrations  of  their 
style  and  spirit,  showing  how  he  cotild  minule  instruction  Avith 
his  most  playful  thoughts,  and  with  affectionate  tenderness 
seize  every  occasion  for  the  inculcation  of  the  great  truths  of 


86  LETTERS. 

religion.  Under  d;ite  of  April  27,  1839,  while  he  was  absent 
at  his  work  in  South  Hanover  Seminary,  he  closes  a  letter  to  his 
wife  at  Danville  with  the  following  allusion  to  their  first-born 
dauohter,  then  an  infant; : — 

"  But  as  for  that  little  angel — train  her  up  for  Gol,  and  dedi- 
cate her  anew  to  Him  daily :  and  if  she  be  indeed  very  lovely^ 
stand  ready  to  have  her  transplanted  to  her  proper  place  at 
any  moment ;  for  who  knows  the  day  or  the  hour  ?  Let  us 
thus  learn  to  consider  God's  mercies  as  loaiis  ;  and  while  we 
rejoice  in  the  blessing,  let  our  exultation  be  subdued  by  a 
consciousness  of  the  uncertainty  of  all  human  possessions.  I 
feel  it  would  be  a  desolation  to  lose  her,  an  agony  to  see  her 
suffer ;  but  my  love  may  turn  to  idolatry.  Remember  we  have 
transmitted  to  her  a  fallen  nature,  and  the  elements  which  form 
the  rainbow  may  become  a  thunder-cloud.  Nothing  but  God's 
grace  can  save  her."  As  this  daughter  grew  up,  one  of  his 
letters  to  her,  accompanying  a  copy  of  "  Mrs.  Hemans  "  which 
he  had  bought  for  her,  closes  with  a  quotation  which  he  thus 
beautifully  appropriates — "  I  have  tried  to  adopt  and  apply  it 
to  my  first-born. 

"  '  I  give  thee  to  th.v  G-od,  the  God  that  gave  thee, 
A  well-spring  of  deep  gladness,  to  my  heart ! 

And  precious  as  thou  art, 
And  pure  as  dew  of  Hermon ;  He  shall  have  thee, 
My  own,  my  beautiful,  my  undefiled. 

And  thou  shalt  be  His  child.' 

Heathen  poetry  has  nothing  so  touching,  or  indeed  so  truly 
sublime,  because   heathen    life  had   no  feeling  like    that  of  a 

Christian  father  and  mother.     Oh  !  that  my  J and  L 

may  be  his  children.  You  see,  my  dear  daughter,  how  my  pen 
runs  on.  I  sat  down  to  tell  you  that  I  had  reached  this  place, 
and  cannot  withhold  my  feelings  from  the  greatest,  best  inter- 
ests of  my  children.  My  watch  says,  almost  ten ;  everybody 
has  retired  ;  and  stillness  prevails  over  all  the  grounds.  It  is 
the  time  for  parents  to  bless  their  children,  and  commend  them 
to  God — the   time   for  all  of  us   to   commit  ourselves  to  our 


CORRESPONDENCE.  87 

Father  in  heaven.     May  sweet  rest,  and  thoughts  of  love,  and 
trust  m  God  be  yours,  my  wife  and  daughters." 

In  another  letter  to  the  same  daughter  he  says — "  The  love  I 
bear  you  is  beyond  expression,  and  how  much  my  own  happi- 
ness is  involved  in  the  dutiful  reception  of  that  love  on  your 
part,  you  cannot  now  understand.  Such  love  is  inseparable 
from  a  watchful  and  anxious  care,  and  possibly  in  my  feeble 
health,  I  may  indulge  that  anxiety  too  much.  Yet  it  is  a  world 
of  danger  to  the  young,  to  all.  Forgiveness  is  a  word  that 
seems  too  solemn  for  a  mere  man  to  use ;  and  yet,  I  remember, 
it  is  used  in  that  prayer,  which  our  Saviour  has  taught  us — 
'  Forgive  us  our  trespasses  as  we  forgive  those  that  trespass 
against  us.'  And  be  assured  that  if  an  earthly  father  can  so 
freely  and  joyfully  forgive  and  forget,  how  much  more  freely 
will  your  Father  in  heaven  forgive  and  pity.  Do  not  fear  then 
to  approach  the  mercy  seat  of  that  eternal  love,  in  comparison 
with  which  all  human  kindness  is  absolute  indifference  ;  and 
let  your  confiding  faith  in  your  earthly  father's  love  and  sym- 
pathy, teach  you  the  nature  of  that  filial  confidence  with  which 
you  may  come  to  our  Father  in  heaven.  Seek  His  face,  my 
daughter,  and  learn  how  freely  Jesus  can  forgive.  Oh,  taste 
and  see  that  the  Lord  is  good.  Write  me  very  soon,  and 
believe  me,  with  increased  tenderness,  your  aflfectionate  fa- 
ther." 

Many  of  these  letters  to  his  daughters  were  written  on  the 
Sabbath,  and  introduced  with  the  remark,  that  while  it  would 
be  a  sinful  violation  of  God's  holy  day  to  devote  any  part  of 
it  to  worldly  business,  pleasure,  or  correspondence,  yet  it  is  a 
sweet  and  blessed  privilege  to  talk  to  one  another,  by  tongue 
or  pen,  of  the  goodness  of  God,  the  glory  of  heaven,  and  the 
love  of  that  blessed  Saviour  who  on  this  day  rose  from  the 
dead,  and  wrought  out  our  salvation.  And  in  this  spirit  he 
wrote  many  a  long  letter,  filling  up  the  intervals  between  pub- 
lic preaching,  by  thus  lovingly  conversing  with  his  absent  chil- 
dren about  Jesus  and  the  things  of  His  king«lom. 

The  following  passages  are  from- a  letter  addressed  to  both 
daughters,  from  the  Virginia  Springs,  in  1850  : — 


88  MRS.  GREEN. 

"  Improve  your  voices,  my  dear  children.  Tou  cannot  take  a  piano  or  harp 
along  with  you  as  you  travel,  but  you  have  a  much  superior  instrument,  which 
may  be  improved  almost  without  bounds,  and  is  far  superior  to  any  stringed 
or  wind  instrument  of  man's  invention.  This  you  can  always  take  along  for 
your  ovm  entertainment  and  your  friends.  Love  your  home,  learn  to  make  it 
happy  to  yourselves  and  your  dear  mother.  There  is  nothing  in  this  world 
so  sweet  and  so  sacred  as  home.  The  thought  of  it  now  is  worth  more  to  me 
than  all  the  transient  enjoyment  of  company,  and  all  the  glory,  even,  of  this 
mountain  scenery. 

"  To-morrow  is  God's  holy  Sabbath.  How  wiU  my  daughters  be  employed  ? 
Early  awake — dressed — cheerfully  employed  in  all  the  morning  duties  of  the 
Sabbath?  Your  father  will  be  engaged  in  prayer  for  you — wiU  you  pray  for 
yourselves,  and  for  him  ?  that  we  may  be  spared  to  each  other  long  below,  and 
meet  again  in  heaven  ?  You  can  hardly  think  of  your  father  as  taken  from 
you ;  yet,  my  dear  children,  you  must  learn  to  view  this  as  a  certain  reality. 
It  will  only  make  us  love  one  another  more  tenderly,  and  begin  our  heaven 
here  below.  It  is  now  late,  and  I  am  glad  I  have  the  opportunity  of  closing 
my  first  week  in  the  mountains  in  talking  with  you.  Let  my  accounts  of  you 
be  such  as  a  father  loves  to  hear,  and  may  we  meet  in  peace  and  health,  and 
long  live  in  love — love  to  God  and  one  another." 

From  the  letters  to  Mrs.  Green,  which  abound  in  expressions 
of  the  most  tender  and  devoted  aftection,  we  give,  iu  this  con- 
nection, a  single  paragraph : — 

"You  seem  to  fear  that  I  have  some  special  annoyance — by  no  means,  I  have 
every  comfort  which  a  man  can  have,  whose  heart  is  five  hundred  miles  out  of 
his  body.  I  have  just  received  yours  of  the  twelfth,  and  thank  you  a  thousand 
times  for  it.  Glad  to  see  you  are  well  and  cheerful.  Trust  in  God,  for  we  shall 
yet  praise  Him.  Is  there  nothing  in  signs  ?  The  brightest  sun,  the  purest  and 
most  bracing  atmosphere,  the  happiest  faces  all  around,  seeming  to  rejoice  with 
me  at  the  news  from  home  ?  '  Well  and  busy ' — then  happy.  Thank  God  and 
take  courage.  "With  a  thousand  anxieties  and  a  thousand  cheerful  anticipa- 
tions blended  strangely  togethei",  I  remain,  your  ever  afl'ectionate 

"  L.  W.  Greex." 

The  following  beautiful  extract  is  from  a  letter  to  his  second 
daughter,  written  from  Danville  in  1860  : — 

"  My  dear  L :  It  is  now  nine  o'clock,  Sunday  night.    I  am  just  from  the 

church,  and  though  I  have  only  a  few  moments,  I  cannot  refrain  from  dropping 
a  line  or  two  to  my  own  darling  daughter.  I  had  laid  oflF  a  long  letter  for  this 
afternoon,  but  the  prayer-meeting  appointed  for  three  o'clock,  at  which  I  was 
requested  to  officiate,  interfered.     The  sermon  by  Dr.  Yantis  was  from  a  pre- 


EXTRACTS.  89 

cious  text,  and  well  handled :  '  Fear  not,  little  flock ;  it  is  your  Father's  good 

pleasure  to  give  you  the  kingdom.'     I  could  not  but  think  of  my  little  L as 

a  lamb  in  that  flock,  and  remember  the  promise  of  the  Good  Shepherd,  that  He 
will  bear  the  lambs  in  His  bosom.  If  He  bears  you,  where  is  the  danger  ?  What 
power  can  harm  you  ?  If  on  His  bosom,  how  near  His  heart !  How  gently 
softly,  tenderly,  with  His  own  Almighty  arms,  and  on  His  own  bosom  of  infinite 
and  eternal  love  I  And  then  He  bears  you  to  a  kingdom,  beyond  all  earthly 
kingdoms,  and  that  even  a  heavenly!  'And  it  is  the  Father's  good  pleasure.' 
"Who  can  resist  it  ?  It  is  a  part  of  His  own  infinite  blessedness  to  save  sinners ; 
and  there  is  a  good  pleasure,  not  a  malignant  pleasure  as  in  inflicting  misery, 
but  a  good,  ki»d,  benevolent  pleasure — a  good  pleasure  consistent  wath  His 
holiness,  justice,  goodness,  truth,  with  all  His  attributes.  AJl  are  harmonized, 
all  are  magnified  and  made  honorable  in  the  salvation  of  His  people.  He  can 
be  just  and  justify  the  ungodly.  Blessed  thought — that  the  same  arms  of  infi- 
nite love  are  stretched  out  over  all  the  world,  and  embrace  this  night  my  L 

and  J as  well  as  those  at  home.     Sweet  be  your  rest,  my  daughter,  as  you  lie 

there  folded  in  those  arms,  so  gently,  so  tenderly,  so  omnipotently,  on  that 
bosom  so  warm  in  its  bleeding  love.  Good  night,  my  daughter,  under  the  can- 
opy of  that  'good  pleasure,'  and  may  our  last  good  night  on  earth  be  as  full 
of  cheerful  hope,  the  precursor  of  a  brighter  morning." 

To  these  passages  we  subjoin  one  other  extract,  in  a  different 
vein,  written  to  the  elder  daughter  in  1855,  while  at  Hampden 
Sidney,  an  illustration  of  that  intellectual  cultivation  and  com- 
panionship which  existed  in  the  home  circle. 

"  I  ran  ofl"  to  hear  Everett  at  Petersburg.  An  accomplished  rhetorician,  not 
a  great  orator  (sit  veiiia  vei'bo),  nor  great  man,  mejudice.  But  he  was  unwell, 
and  did  not  do  justice  to  the  language  or  thought.  A  few  magnificent  pas- 
sages no  doubt,  '  where  affection  rises  into  reverence,  and  reverence  melts  back 
into  affection,'  in  our  contemplation  of  Washington.  As  an  orator  he  lacks 
vivid  emotion  and  electric  power ;  as  a  philosopher,  profound  thought.  As  a 
morahst  and  conservative  patriot,  his  sentiments  are  beautifully  correct  and 
happily  expressed.  'But  as  a  work  of  art,  was  it  not  complete  and  perfect?' 
said  a  gentleman  to  me.  Granted,  in  a  sense,  yet  this  is  my  objection.  The 
summa  ars  is  celare  arteni.  1  heard  all  through  the  scratch  of  a  polished  pen> 
not  the  music  of  the  spheres,  or  any  of  the  sublime  voices  of  nature  or  of  hu- 
man passion.  I  saw  the  graceful  step  of  a  Knight  of  the  Garter,  or  a  Lord  of 
the  Bedchamber,  not  the  massive  form  or  gigantic  stride  of  a  Hercules.  The 
beauty  of  a  garden  is  not  the  grandeur  of  a  forest.  You  can  trim  a  hedge 
and  train  a  honeysuckle,  not  the  oaks  of  the  forest.  A  beautiful  experiment 
by  Dr.  Doremus  cannot  rival  the  whole  gathered  thunders  of  the  tempest  and 
the  storm.     It  is  artificial  electricity,  not  Ughtning  and  thunderbolts. 


90  EXTRACTS. 

"  Now  is  not  there  a  piece  of  criticism  for  7011  ?  And  late  at  night,  too,  with 
the  March  winds  howling  around,  the  great  oak  at  my  window  now  bending 
sullenly  before  the  storm,  then  lifting  its  head  as  in  defiance,  and  throwing  its 
brawny  arms  abroad  to  meet  the  full  fury  of  its  foe ;  the  black  gaunt  clouds 
drifting  silently  over  the  sky,  are  driven  careering  before  the  tempest,  while 
ever  and  anon  a  bright  star  is  seen  through  the  parted  clouds,  and  the  deep 
heaven  of  heavens  beyond,  serenely  solemn,  speaking  amidst  the  voiceless 
midnight  of  immensity  and  eternity,  of  God  and  immortality.  How  strange, 
that  even  when  we  begin  in  jest,  we  close  in  earnest.  I  meant  to  amuse  my- 
self with  Mr.  Everett's  fondness  for  the  'stars,'  and  behold  I  am  running  on 
as  one  moonstruck.     For 

"  '  Te  stars,  ye  are  the  poetry  of  heaven ! 
And  in  our  aspiration  to  be  great, 
"We  claim  a  kindred  with  you ;  for  ye  are 
A  beauty  and  a  mystery,  and  create 
In  us  such  love  and  reverence  from  afar. 
That  fortune,  fame,  power,  life  have  named  themselves  a  star.' 

They  that  turn  many  to  righteousness  shall  shine  as  the  stars  for  ever  and 
ever.  But  0  Lucifer,  son  of  the  morning,  how  art  thou  fallen !  Such  genius, 
such  aspirations  to  be  great !  Such  total  ruin  to  himself  and  others !  A  great 
star  fallen  upon  the  waters — burning  as  it  falls — and  its  name  was  wormwood 
— the  rivers  and  fountains  became  wormwood,  and  men  died  of  their  bitter- 
ness.— See  Rev.  viii.  11-13. 

''But,  my  dear,  the  night  is  far  spent,  physically  as  well  as  morally,  the  day  is 
at  hand;  let  us  look  to  Him  who  is  'the  bright  and  morning  star,'  that 
through  the  tender  mercy  of  our  G-od,  the  dayspring  may  visit  us  from  on 
high.  Good  night,  my  daughter,  and  may  our  last  night  on  earth,  be  followed 
by  a  glorious  morning.    Affeotionately,  Your  Father." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

His  "Wriliiigs. — Unpublished  Sermons. — Inaugural  Discourses. — Literary  and 
Educational  Addresses. — Lectures  at  the  University  of  Virginia. — Ad- 
verse Criticism. — Method  of  Preparation  for  the  Pulpit. — Estimate  of  his 
Preaching  by  Dr.  Brank. —Estimate  by  Kev.  W.  G.  Craig. — Closing 
Tribute  from  a  Lady. 

The  sermons  contained  in  the  present  volume  are  now  pub- 
lished for  the  first  time,  and  of  course  without  the  author's 
revision.  Written,  as  they  were,  with  no  view  to  publication, 
and  prepared,  not  for  the  eye  of  the  critic,  but  for  the  ear  of  a 
popular  assembly,  they  should  be  judged  rather  by  the  im- 
pression they  were  calculated  to  make  on  his  hearers  than  by 
any  abstract  standard  of  perfect  written  composition.  Though 
necessarily  incomplete  and  fragmentary,  they  yet  retain  enough 
of  original,  striking  thought,  and  enough  of  the  speaker's  fire, 
to  be  read  with  interest  and  profit,  especially  by  those  who 
ever  heard  the  living  voice  that  uttered  these  magnificent 
periods.  Besides  their  intrinsic  excellence,  as  containing  the 
grand  things  of  God's  salvation,  and  of  man's  duty  and  des- 
tiny, they  possess  the  additional  value  of  completely  revealing 
the  speaker's  own  heart  and  life.  They  show  what  he  preaclied 
and  how  ho  preached ;  the  range  of  his  subjects  and  his 
method  of  handling  them  ;  what  he  depended  on  as  the  rock 
of  his  salvation,  and  by  what  principles  he  aimed  to  live  and 
die.  By  his  wide  circle  of  friends  they  will  no  doubt  be  wel- 
comed as  a  noble  monument  to  his  excellence. 

But,  during  his  life.  Dr.  Green  was  called,  on  special  oc- 
casions, to  deliver  quite  a  number  of  inaugural  discourses  and 
otiier  literary  addresses,  which  were  for  the  most  part  prepared 
with  much  care,  and  published  at  the  time  of  their  delivery. 
One  of  these,  his  inaugural  address  at  the  beginning  of  his 


92  PUBLISHED  ADDRESSES. 

professorship  at  Allegheny  Seminary,  has  already  been  referred 
to  as  a  production  of  great  excellence.  His  inaugural  address 
on  assuming  the  Presidency  of  Hampden  Sidney  College  in 
1849,  written  in  his  characteristic  style  of  boldness  and  vigor, 
is  a  masterly  defence  of  the  higher  collegiate  education,  replete 
with  sound,  practical  sense,  and  abounding  in  passages  of 
eloquence  and  power.  In  1842  he  delivered  an  address  before 
the  Literary  Societies  of  Jefferson  College,  Pa.,  on  the  Philoso- 
phy of  History,  or  the  Development  of  God's  Plan  in  the  Prog- 
ress of  Nations,  embracinoj  a  wide  ran 2: e  of  thoui^ht,  and  an 
amount  of  historical  information  not  often  found  in  a  single 
discourse.  In  the  winter  of  1850-1851  he  delivered,  at  the 
University  of  Virginia,  two  lectures  on  the  Harmony  of  Reve- 
lation and  Natural  Science,  with  special  reference  to  Geology. 
This  was  one  of  the  ablest  productions  of  his  pen,  and  was 
published,  with  a  series  of  similar  lectures  by  other  prominent 
ministers,  in  a  volume  entitled  "  Lectures  on  the  Evidences  ot 
Christianity."  The  two  lectures  occupy  more  than  sixty  oc- 
tavo pages,  and  were  intended  to  bring  into  view  the  different 
opinions  and  theories  of  all  the  prominent  modern  writers  on 
the  subject.  They  show  a  vast  range  of  reading  and  research 
in  the  wide  fields  of  natural  science,  as  well  as  in  the  more 
special  province  of  the  theologian.  Every  page  gives  evidence 
of  the  profound  thinker  and  the  man  of  learning.  After  his 
return  to  Kentucky  he  delivered  two  other  inaugural  dis- 
courses, both  of  which  were  published — one  in  1856,  as  Presi- 
dent of  Transylvania  University  and  State  Normal  School,  and 
the  other  in  1858,  before  the  Synod  of  Kentucky,  at  his  in- 
auguration as  President  of  Centre  College.  In  each  of  these 
he  discusses  with  great  fulness  and  power,  that  subject  which, 
above  all  others,  he  had  mastered — education — primary,  col- 
legiate, and  professional — in  all  its  relations  and  bearings.  The 
lofty  patriotism  breathing  through  these  admirable  discourses, 
their  sound,  practical  principles  and  noble  A'iews,  excited  much 
attention  at  the  time,  and  called' forth  letters  of  commendation 
and  encouragement  from  some  of  the  most  distinguished  edu- 
cators in  America.     One  other  address,  at  the  dedication  01 


SCIENTIFIC  LECTURES.  03 

the  Caldwell  Female  Institute  in  1861,  at  Danville,  in  which 
he  well  describes  woman's  true  sphere,  education,  and  mission, 
completes  the  list  of  his  published  Avritings. 

The  inaugural  address  before  the  Synod  of  Kentucky  w^as 
republished  by  Dr.  Van  Rensselaer  in  TJie  Ilome^  the  School^ 
and  the  Churchy  the  year  following  its  delivery,  under  tlie  title 
of  the  "  American  System  of  Collegiate  Education."  The  lec- 
ture before  the  University  of  Virginia  was  also  published  in 
T/ie  /Southern  Preshyterian  Revlein.  It  gave  rise  to  some  ad- 
verse criticism  at  the  miiversity.  Dr.  Green  delivered  it  in 
his  usual  style  of  animation,  without  the  use  of  notes,  and  was 
heard  with  great  interest  by  the  students.  But  he  advanced 
certain  opinions  which  were  regarded  as  erroneous  by  some  of 
the  professors,  and  as  misrej)resenting  the  position  of  scientific 
men  on  the  subjects  under  discussion.  He  was  requested  to 
modify  or  omit  these  views  before  the  lecture  went  to  press: 
but  this  he  declined  doing,  and  the  lecture  was  published  as 
delivered.  He  had  taken  much  pains  in  the  preparation  of  it ; 
and,  in  a  private  letter  to  a  member  of  his  family  after  the  pub- 
lication, refers  to  it  in  the  following  terms :  "  It  contains  in  a 
popular  form  the  best  and  largest  results  of  natural  science — 
the  views  of  all  the  great  men  about  the  universe.  Its  most 
peculiar  view  on  the  certain  temporary  extinction  of  suns,  and 
the  possible  and  probable  suspension  of  light  in  our  own  sun,  was 
stolen,  reprinted  in  Boston,  and  circulated  over  the  West  and 
the  nation  ;  and  the  editor  who  stole  and  used  it  as  his  own,  as- 
sures me  that  it  has  given  universal  satisfaction  at  the  North ; 
and  it  was  considered  by  him  as  fair  plunder  as  any  other  con- 
tribution to  human  knowledge." 

It  may  serve  to  illustrate  the  interest  which  the  lecture,  on 
its  delivery,  had  excited  among  the  students,  to  state  that,  at 
the  next  commencement  following  it,  he  was  invited  to  deliver 
the  annual  literary  ad<lress  before  the  four  societies  of  the 
university,  which  service  he  performed  in  a  style  acceptable  to 
all  parties. 

Some  of  Dr.  Green's  sermons  were  written  out  with  great 
care,  at  least  so  far  as  he  wrote  them  at  all :  for  bis  habit  was  to 


04  METHOD   OF  PREACHING. 

leave  parts  of  them  to  extemporaiieons  delivery.  Occasionally 
luadp  of  *Jiscourse  would  be  jotted  down  ;  sometimes  a  skeleton 
rediH'L'd  to  writing,  but  it  was  seldom  cariied  to  the  pulpit, 
;ind  if  produced  there,  proved  a  source  of  embarrassment  rather 
tlian  of  help.  On  one  of  the  few  occasions  toward  the  latter 
part  of  life,  in  which  he  ventured  to  use  a  manuscript,  he  was 
trammeled  in  the  delivery.  His  usual  metliod  was  to  preach 
without  manuscripts  of  any  kind.  His  health  not  being  very 
vigorous,  and  the  manual  labor  and  confinement  of  writing 
costing  him  much  pain  and  exhaustion,  he  wrote  very  few  dis- 
courses of  any  kind  after  the  first  ten  years  of  his  ministry. 
His  sermons  were  thoroughly  elaborated  in  the  study  by  a 
process  of  mental  composition  which  gave  them  the  accurate 
diction  and  the  rich  consecutive  thought  usually  attained  by 
writing.  And  even  without  this  previous  preparation,  his 
mind  was  so  full  of  material,  and  so  gifted  with  ready  inven- 
tion, that  he  would  gather  fresh  impulse  and  new  wealth  of 
imagery  and  illustration  from  the  very  inspiration  of  extempo- 
raneous speaking.  To  a  friend,  who  was  once  .dej^loring  the 
loss  of  productions  worthy  of  being  preserved,  he  replied,  that 
it  cost  him  hardly  an  effort  to  recall  any  train  of  thought  he  Iiad 
once  mastered  in  the  order  of  its  development,  and  that  at 
some  day  of  leisure  he  purposed  to  put  his  reflections  on 
several  subjects  into  permanent  shape.  Unhappily  the  gift 
itself  proved  fatal  to  the  purpose,  and  only  encouraged  his 
unconquerable  aversion  to  the  pen. 

But  whether  written  or  unwritten  his  discourses  were  always 
delivered  with  freedom  and  fire.  It  was  not  in  his  nature  to 
speak  without  animation.  Animation  is,  indeed,  too  cold  a 
word  to  describe  his  manner.  It  was  with  the  intensest  energy 
of  soul  and  body.  The  whole  man  in  every  faculty  and  organ 
was  engaged.  His  sermon  was  a  great  battle  for  God  and 
truth  ;  and  he  fought  it  with  all  his  might  till  the  conflict 
ended ;  and  often  the  victory  was  won.  His  sermons  Avere 
characterized  by  long  and  elaborate  periods ;  but  they  were 
constructed  with  exquisite  euphony,  and  uttered  with  distinct 
articulation  and  telling  emphasis.    His  mind,  teeming  with  the 


IMPASSIONED   DELIVERY.  95 

rrrancl  themes  of  revelation — God  and  arisen  Saviour;  life, 
death,  and  immortality ;  heaven,  hell,  and  a  judgment  to  come 
— needed  only  the  stimulus  of  his  own  deep  emotions  to  rise 
to  the  very  highest  scores  of  eloquence  and  power.  On  some 
of  these  occasions  he  would  retire  from  the  pulpit  like  a  soldier 
from  the  battle-field,  completely  exhausted  and  faint  by  the 
excessive  heat  of  the  action.  There  are  people  in  Kentucky 
who  are  accustomed  to  speak  of  certain  of  his  sermons,  heard 
long  ago,  as  the  greatest  they  ever  heard.  In  a  beautiful  and 
appropriate  discourse  at  his  funeral  by  Rev.  Dr.  Brank  of 
Lexington,  this  peculiar  fervor  of  his  oratory  is  referred  to. 
After  speaking  of  his  genius  and  learning,  and  his  many  noble 
excellences  as  a  man,  an  educator,  and  a  pastor.  Dr.  Brank 
remarks:  "His  preaching  was  sound,  able,  fervent,  and  elo- 
quent, riveting  the  attention  of  his  hearers  with  the  beauty 
and  splendor  of  his  imagery,  and  thrilling  their  hearts  with  the 
tenderness  and  power  of  his  appeals.  His  style  of  oratory  was 
peculiar  to  himself,  and  impassioned  beyond  almost  any  thing 
I  ever  witnessed.  His  mind  loved  to  soar,  to  rise  above  the 
common  tracts  of  thought ;  his  imagery  was  often  magnificent ; 
his  soul  seemed  to  be  all  on  fire,  and  his  words  came  burning 
from  his  lips  as  coals  from  a  furnace.  It  was  not  merely  his 
voice  that  spoke,  but  his  eyes,  his  lips,  his  whole  countenance  ; 
his  whole  body  seemed  to  be  moving,  trembling,  palpitating  in 
unison  with  the  high  thought  of  his  mind,  laboring  to  give  it 
expression,  and  to  urge  it  upon  the  attention  of  his  almost 
breathless  hearers.  But  few  men  in  our  church  in  the  develop- 
ment of  pulpit  oratory  have  gained  a  wider  or  a  more  deserved 
reputation." 

We  have  aimed  in  this  imperfect  sketch  to  give  at  least 
some  approximate  conception  of  the  life,  labors,  and  character 
of  a  true  man  of  God,  whose  memory  is  still  fresh  in  many 
hearts,  and  who  contributed  much  to  the  collegiate  and 
theological  education  of  our  country.  His  praises  are  in 
many  of  our  cluirches,  and  his  name  will  long  be  cherished  in 
many  households  of  our  land.  But  his  sermons  will  })robably 
be  his  best  memorial.     From    the    manuscripts    extant,  they 


96  TESTIMONIALS. 

might  have  been  swelled  to  twice  or  thrice  the  number  here 
published.  These,  however,  will  be  enough  to  recall  him  to 
his  friends,  and  to  give  others  some  idea  of  his  excellence. 
No  man  could  hear  him  preach  even  once,  or  engage  in  con- 
versation with  him — and  no  one  can  read  these  sermons  we 
think,  without  seeing  that  he  was  a  thinker,  a  scholar,  and  a 
worker,  a  man  of  gentlemanly  bearing,  of  noble  impulses,  of 
large  views,  of  warm  charity,  and  loving  heart.  We  have 
aimed  not  to  eulogize,  but  to  present  his  life  and  character  in 
the  very  light  in  which  he  was  seen  by  his  friends  and  con- 
temporaries. The  appreciative  pen  of  one  who  had  many  op- 
portunities of  hearing  him,  has  drawn  the  following  graphic 
portraiture  of  his  appearance  and  style,  as  in  his  happiest 
moods  he  stood  in  the  pulpit  and  poured  forth  his  masterly 
discourses : —  ^. 

"As  he  spoke,  his  person,  singularly  erect  and  commanding,  seemed  in- 
stinct with  life  in  its  supremest  emotion ;  his  eye,  soft  and  meUow  in  repose, 
would  kindle  as  he  summoned  his  powers  -for  some  lofty  effort,  until  it  spar- 
kled and  shone,  and  burned  like  a  flame,  now  lustrous  with  the  hght  of  rapt 
affection,  now  gleaming  with  the  glow  of  some  grand  imagination,  now  pier- 
cing like  an  eagle's  as  he  rose  to  the  height  of  some  fiery  denunciation  of  sin  or 
untruthfulness.  "We  never  saw  such  an  eye.  It  was  the  shining  through  of 
the  fires  that  burned  within.  In  its  keen  and  vivid  flashes  it  announced  the 
coming  thought;  men  sat  entranced  beneath  its  fascinations,  and  ac- 
knowledged the  supremacy  of  its  power.  The  intellectual  force  and  vivacity 
of  his  character  sparkled  on  his  face ;  his  voice  rose  with  the  demands  of  the 
effort;  his  utterance  became  rapid,  his  gestures  impassioned,  yet  the  very 
embodiment  of  grace,  and  as  his  whole  mien  assumed  the  commanding  pos- 
ture of  an  authorized  ambassador  of  the  Most  High,  we  have  rarely  heard  a 
man,  either  in  the  pulpit,  on  the  stump,  or  at  the  bar,  who  surpassed  him  in 
moving  eloquence,  or  who  might  lay  a  better  claim  to  the  rank  of  a  master  of 
the  human  heart.  By  the  structure  of  his  mind,  and  the  delicacy  of  his 
physical  constitution,  he  was  necessitated,  as  it  were,  to  those  internal  processes 
by  which  the  very  depths  of  his  own  soul  were  sounded  until  its  fearful  com- 
petency for  suffering  as  weU  as  for  enjoying  was  fully  realized.  As  a  result, 
he  could  tread  those  remote  and  mysterious  paths  which  take  their  dark  way 
through  the  profounder  consciousness  of  the  soul  with  a  steadiness  and  fear- 
lessness of  step  rarely  equalled ;  and  many  instances  might  be  recorded  of 
happy  relief  afforded  to  doubt-pressed  and  storm-swept  souls,  by  the  keen 
and  satisfactory  analysis  of  their  troubles  in  his  public  discourses. 


TESTIMONIALS.  "97 

'*  But  this  hasty  outline  would  be  incomplete,  if  mention  was  not  made  of 
his  exceeding  tenderness  when  he  would  come  to  speak  of  the  comfortable 
things  of  the  Gospel  to  the  children  of  the  covenant.  His  own  views  of  the 
unfathomable  depths  of  God's  loving  heart  were  the  most  profound  and 
touching  that  the  writer  has  ever  heard  presented,  and  no  man  was  more  suc- 
cessful in  drawing  souls  under  the  very  shadow  of  his  wing.  How  wonderfully 
could  he  speak  of  the  peace  of  the  Gospel !  Beautiful  is  the  sea  after  a  storm, 
with  the  rays  of  the  sun  sparkling  upon  its  dancing  waves,  or  the  calm  mild 
beams  of  the  moon  sinking  into  its  impenetrable  depths.  So  is  the  soul  after 
the  storm  of  doubt  and  passion  has  passed,  settling  to  rest  in  the  peace  of  the 
Gospel.  So  he  was  accustomed  to  speak.  It  is  said  that  in  the  last  year  of  his 
life,  his  preaching  was  more  and  more  permeated  with  this  tenderness,  as  the 
horrors  of  civil  war  broke  loose  upon  his  hitherto  happy  people,  causing  them 
to  taste  the  bitterness  of  life.  There  never  beat  a  tenderer  heart  than  his  ; 
and  that  thoughtful  tenderness  to-day  brings  tears  to  the  eyes  of  many  of 
his  friends  who  will  pass  by  the  claims  of  his  genius,  to  dweU  with  subdued 
affection  upon  his  almost  womanly  tenderness.  One  of  his  most  frequent 
epithets  in  speaking  of  Christ  was — 'the  Gentle  Saviour;'  and  yet  the  fire 
and  passion  of  his  nature  was  such,  that  the  lightning  would  gleam  from  his 
eye,  and  the  thunder  might  be  heard  in  his  voice."* 

It  will  form  an  appropriate  conclusion  to  our  task,  to  present 
one  additional  testimonial.  It  is  the  graceful  tribute  of  a 
young  lady  who  met  Dr.  Green,  for  the  first  and  last  time,  the 
year  before  his  death,  and  here  recalls  the  impressions, 
agreeable  and  lasting,  made  by  that  passing  acquaintance. 
Nothing  perhaps  will  better  illustrate  the  character  of  the  man, 
as  he  appeared  even  to  strangers  and  in  his  imofficial  and  least 
guarded  aspects,  than  this  genial  and  graphic  memorial. 

"Some  months  ago,  it  chanced  that  in  carelessly  turning  the  leaves  of  a 
borrowed  volume,  I  discovered,  with  deep  emotion,  the  unlooked-for  auto- 
graph of  its  ibrmer  owner,  Lewis  W.  Green.  This  abrupt  presentation  of  a 
name  which,  sacred  to  memory,  had  long  been  embalmed  in  my  heart,  over- 
whelmed me  with  proud,  and  now  pathetically  tender  remembrance  of  my 
brief  acquaintance  with  its  possessor. 

"  It  was  my  fortune  to  spend  the  summer  of  18G2  at  a  water-cure  in  Cleve- 
land, Ohio ;  and  there,  some  time  after  my  arrival,  Dr.  Green  also  repaired 
for  the  benefit  of  his  health.  As  I  was  passing  down  the  hall  the  day  after 
he  reached  the  Cure,  I  was  attracted  by  the  sound  of  an  unfamiliar  voice 
leading:  in  the  customary  morning  devotions  of  the  place ;   and  entering  the 

*  From  a  sketch  by  the  Eev.  W.  G.  Craig,  of  Keokuk,  Iowa. 
6 


98  TESTIMONIALS. 

parlor,  I  heard  from  Dr.  Green  the  parable  of  the  Pharisee  and  the  Pubhcan. 
'  The  Pharisee,'  said  the  reader  (in  a  voice  whose  penetrating  sv^eetness  I 
shall  never  forget),  '  The  Pharisee  stood  and  prayed  thus  with  himself.^  This 
novel  and  strikingly  suggestive  accent  on  li  imself  was  the  first  illustration  I 
received  of  the  doctor's  truly  characteristic  power  of  impressing  his  own 
original  and  appreciative  genius  upon  the  most  familiar  subjects  which  he 
touched ;  so  that  not  infrequently  the  useless  and  unvalued  bullion  of  thought 
was  first  prepared  for  service  when  freshly  conceived  by  his  vigorous  mind, 
and  stamped  with  its  ov*ti  image  and  superscription.  A  stranger  in  the  midst 
of  strangers,  he  unconsciously  sat  that  morning  for  a  portrait,  which,  hke 
the  pictures  of  Cimabue,  was  drawn  on  a  golden  ground,  and  though  some 
of  its  lines  have  been  etfaced  from  my  protecting  memory  by  the  resistless 
wear  of  six  long  years,  yet  the  original  glow  by  which  it  was  surrounded  still 
sheds  its  unfading  radiance  on  my  heart. 

"  A  form  above  the  middle  height,  somewhat  spare,  but  well  proportioned ; 
an  eye  as  keen  as  an  eagle's,  relieved  by  a  mouth  as  sweet  as  a  child's ;  a 
broad  and  lofty  forehead,  strongly  developed  in  the  regions  of  ideality  and 
reason ;  a  complexion  of  that  peculiar  sallow  hue,  so  often  noticed  in  men 
who  have  ever  toiled  in  the  intellectual  vineyard,  the  whole  face  combining 
with  rare  attractiveness,  vivacity  and  dignity,  sensibility  and  self-command, 
delicacy  and  power.  Such  is  my  recollection  of  Dr.  Green  as  he  appeared  at 
that  time.  His  carriage  and  gestures  were  distinguished  by  a  native  grace 
and  dignity ;  and  the  united  charms  of  his  manner  and  conversation  I  have 
never  known  surpassed. 

"  Affable  to  aU,  he  appeared  that  summer  to  dehght  especially  in  the  society 
of  intelligent  and  sprightly  women,  whom  he  successfully  rivalled  in  their 
own  peculiar  powers  of  tact,  graphic  description,  and  graceful  courtesy. 
The  lightning  of  his  wit  attracted  and  electrified  his  audience,  but  it  was 
lightning  stiU,  and  could  on  needful  occasions,  repel  the  claims  of  pre- 
sumptuous pride,  and  paralyze  irreverence  and  folly.  Still  it  ever  seemed  his 
choice  to  conquer  by  persuasion.  The  Greeks  have  enriched  their  mythology 
by  the  fable  of  Bacchus'  invasion  of  India.  The  joyous  warrior,  we  are 
told,  in  common  with  his  followers,  disguised  his  hostile  aims  by  wreathing 
his  spear  with  vine  leaves  and  concealing  its  barb  in  a  cone.  The  moral 
of  this  fantastic  tale  Dr.  Green  appeared  to  have  mastered,  for  none  better 
understood  how  to  adorn  his  weapons,  and  by  the  guise  of  peace  to  secure 
a  victory. 

"  One  of  his  most  amiable  characteristics  was  the  ready  tact  with  which  he 
understood  and  attracted  the  young,  a  power  in  most  cases  sufficiently  ex- 
plained by  the  habits  of  his  professional  life,  and  the  enlarged  sympathies  of 
a  profound  and  liberal  mind.  In  instances,  however,  which  his  experience 
had  multipUed,  and  in  some  of  which  I  am  personally  cognizant,  nothing 
short  of    a  secret  susceptibihty  of  temperament  (which  needs  only  to  be 


TESTIMONIALa  99 

known,  to  suggest  a  resemblance  to  Lavater's)  could  account  for  the  ease  with 
which  he  deciphered  the  hieroglyphics  of  feeling,  and  perused  unassisted  tho 
past  history  of  a  life. 

"  In  general  society  Dr.  Green  displayed  the  most  versatile  and  attractive 
powers.  His  discriminating,  but  pointed  satires  made  him  a  dangerous  foe 
in  a  war  of  wit ;  while  to  the  attack  of  others,  he  presented  a  burnished 
shield  which  not  only  dazzled  the  enemy  by  its  lustre,  but  from  its  brilliant 
and  polished  surface  turned  aside  all  missiles ;  yet  in  the  gayest  badinage,  ho 
was  never  betrayed  into  that  meretricious  brilliancy  which  society  esteems 
and  cultivates,  and  which  is  so  pre-eminently  superficial  and  untrue,  that  it 
may  be  assumed  with  equal  ease  by  men  of  widely  differing  merit,  as  the 
bubble  and  the  rainbow  are  embellished  by  the  same  colors. 

"  The  personal  influence  which  he  soon  acquired  with  all  whom  he  knew  at 
the  Cure,  I  would  have  deemed  incredible  had  I  not  myself  been  a  witness. 
It  is  a  fact,  however,  which  was  then  generally  observed,  that  cards  (which 
had  been  before  his  arrival  the  usual  evening  amusement)  were  almost 
entirely  abandoned  during  the  period  of  his  stay.  As  a  preacher  I  shall  not 
venture  to  judge  of  the  full  scope  of  his  powers,  since  the  only  sermons  which 
I  heard  from  him  were  extemporaneous  efforts,  dehvered  before  the  inmates  of 
the  house  and  the  neighboring  families.  My  memory,  however,  still  vividly 
retains  the  impression  of  his  fluent  rhetoric,  his  captivating  fancy,  and  his 
touchingly  tender  exhortations.  If  Dr.  Green  had  been  Hke  many  clergymen, 
his  conversations  might  have  thrown  some  further  light  upon  his  style  as  a 
speaker,  but  he  judiciously  disarmed  the  prejudice  of  the  worldly  by  sim- 
ply Hving  his  religion,  while  he  confined  his  preaching  to  the  formality  of 
sermons.  The  religion,  however,  with  which  his  soul  was  interpenetrated 
and  controlled,  continually  escaped  from  his  tongue  in  forms  more  enticing 
than  precepts,  as  unasked  the  exquisite  perfumes  arise  from  the  heart  of  a 
flower. 

"  Thus  far  I  have  only  described  him,  as  he  must  have  appeared  to  all,  and 
my  heart  importunes  me  in  vain  for  her  own  individual  shrovetide.  The 
homage  of  memory,  the  gratitude  of  years,  the  awakened  aspirations  of  a 
life,  shall  alone  attest  the  reverent  and  tender  affection  with  which  he  inspired 


SERMOI^S. 


&v 


'-'iXJ^^x^ 


SERMONS. 


I. 

THE   RESURRECTION   OF   CHRIST. 


Luke,  xxiv.  34. — "  The  Lord  is  risen  indeed." 


In  the  days  of  Augustus  Coesar  appeared  a  man  of  singular 
and  extraordinary  cliaracter.  We  have  no  description  of  his 
person  considered  certainly  authentic.  Yet  there  is  one  of  very 
ancient  date,  which  informs  us  that  there  was,  in  his  whole 
countenance  and  manner,  that  amazing  union  of  elevation  and 
meekness,  of  gentleness  and  dignity,  which  characterizes  all  his 
recorded  acts,  which  painters  have,  in  vain,  attempted  to 
transfer  to  canvas,  and  for  which  neitlier  history  nor  fiction 
has  ever  found  or  formed  a  parallel. 

Born  a  Jew,  he  surmounted  all  the  narrow  prejudices  of  his 
age  and  nation,  and  looking  abroad,  over  the  face  of  human 
society,  with  a  large  and  liberal  survey,  took  the  whole  world 
as  his  theatre  of  action,  and  all  of  human  kind  as  his  brethren. 
An  unlettered  peasant,  he  despised  at  once  the  traditions  ot 
the  elders,  the  learning  of  the  rabbins,  the  subtlety  of  the 
lawyers,  and  the  authority  of  the  priests;  amd  resolved  to 
reform  and  revolutionize  the  whole  moral  and  religious  system 
of  his  people.  Trained  in  no  school  of  philosophy,  yet  did  he 
teach  a  purer  and  more  perfect  morality,  a  more  exalted  and 
spiritual  religion  than  could  be  collected  from  all  the  volumes 
of  all  the  heathen  philosophers  together.  Sprung  from  an 
obscure  but  reputable  family,  he  claimed  to  be  of  the  royal 


104  THE   RESURRECTION   OF  CHRIST. 

lineage  of  David,  to  be  the  Messiah  of  the  Jews,  the  King  and 
Saviour  of  Israel.  Yet  when  the  people  welcomed  him  with 
enthusiastic  acclamations  and  offered  him  a  crown,  he  spurned 
it  contemptuously  away,  and  said,  the  kingdom  he  had  come 
to  establish  was  not  of  this  world,  but  a  kingdom  of  peace 
and  holiness  and  truth. 

The  period  of  the  w^orld  at  which  he  appeared  was  one  of 
momentous  interest.  It  formed  an  era  in  the  history  of  our 
race.  It  w^as  the  transition  state  of  human  society  from  its 
ancient  to  its  new  and  better  form.  The  intellect  of  maw  had 
done  its  utmost.  Philosophy  had  long  since  degenerated  into 
scepticism.  And  centuries  of  proud  reasoning  had  terminated 
in  universal  doubt.  The  cheering  belief  in  the  immortality  of 
the  soul,  in  the  existence  of  one  supreme,  presiding  Deity,  in 
the  reality  of  moral  distinctions  and  moral  obligations,  had 
passed  av\'ay  from  the  creed' of  the  cultivated  classes,  and  was 
fast  losing  its  hold  upon  the  popular  mind.  And  society, 
w^ithout  any  fixed  principles  or  authoritative  guide,  might  well 
be  compared  to  some  stately  vessel  broken  loose  from  her 
moorings,  and  cast  out  in  a  dark  night  on  a  tempestuous  ocean, 
without  a  pilot  to  direct  her  course,  or  one  tw^inkling  star  to 
guide  her  wanderings.  Amidst  the  darkness  and  universal 
gloom,  passion  seized  the  helm,  and  all  man's  present  happi- 
ness and  virtue  w-ere  wrecked,  along  with  all  his  future  hopes. 
Political  freedom  was  lost  amidst  the  universal  crash,  and  the 
Roman  emperors,  sensual,  beastly,  cruel,  vindictive,  tyrannical, 
w'ere  only  incarnations  (embodied  representations)  of  the  spirit 
of  their  age — of  that  degraded  and  brutal  spirit  which,  amidst 
the  turmoil  of  the  times,  threw  the  basest  of  human  beings  to 
the  helm  of  human  affairs.  The  annals  of  the  world  contained 
no  parallel  to  the  enormities  which  are  recoided  by  the  Jew  ish 
and  Roman  historians  of  this  and  the  succeeding  age. 

Such  was  the  condition  of  the  world  when,  in  a  distant 
province  of  the  Roman  Empire,  in  an  obscure  corner  of  his 
native  land,  this  bold  and  original  adventurer  conceived  and 
avowed  the  stupendous  design — stupendous  in  its  nature,  its 
extent,  its  results — of  revolutionizing  the  whole  moral,  reli- 


THE   RESURRECTION   OF  CHRIST.  105 

gious,  and  social  condition  of  the  habitable  globe,  of  casting 
down  into  the  dust  its  magnificent  temples  and  venerated 
idols,  of  overturning  its  consecrated,  time-honored  institutions, 
and,  on  the  ruins  of  all  that  was  old,  erecting  a  new  dominion 
of  his  own,  whose  extent  should  be  bounded  only  by  the  limits 
of  the  earth,  and  its  duration  measured  out  by  the  long  lapse 
of  her  revolving  centuries.  But  if  the  conception  was  vast, 
what  shall  we  say  of  the  accomplishment?  All  human  preju- 
dices were  arrayed  against  him,  all  earthly  power  was  exerted 
to  oppose  his  progress.  The  Jew  and  the  Gentile,  the  priest, 
the  magistrate,  and  the  people,  the  emperor,  the  philosopher, 
and  the  fanatic — with  learning,  eloquence,  and  argument — the 
tongue,  the  pen,  and  the  sword,  all  were  engaged  in  tlie  war 
of  extermination  waged  against  his  system.  He  fell  himself  a 
victim  to  the  power  and  malice  of  his  foes,  yet  did  his  religion 
survive.  It  advanced  with  amazing  rapidity  from  the  province 
of  his  birth  to  ^he  city  of  his  death,  was  diffused  over  the  civ- 
ilized world,  planted  itself  in  the  Imperial  city,  entered  the 
palace  and  the  senate  chamber,  and  soon  mounted  the  throne. 
And  now,  after  the  lapse  of  eighteen  hundred  years,  the  sj^stems 
of  philosophers  have  passed  aw^ay  and  are  forgotten.  Jerusa- 
lem and  her  magnificent  temple  are  buried  in  the  dust.  Rome, 
the  Eternal  city,  she  that  was  called  the  almighty^  the  Gotli, 
the  Vandal,  and  Hun  have  long  since  trampled  under  foot. 
Yet  does  the  faith  of  the  despised  peasant  of  Judea  live  in  the 
memories  and  affections  of  millions  of  his  followers. 

Yes,  amidst  the  lapse  of  ages,  the  decay  of  systems,  the  sack 
of  cities,  and  the  wreck  of  empires,  does  she  still  survive.  Xo 
decay  is  stamped  upon  her  front,  no  dimness  beclouds  her  eye ; 
but  there  she  stands,  strong  in  the  vigor  of  an  immortal  youtli, 
and  her  brow  is  trimmed  with  the  laurels  she  has  Avon  in  the 
many  battles  of  the  many  generations  that  are  past.  She 
stands,  the  religion  of  every  civilized  nation  under  heaven,  and 
numbering  among  her  advocates  the  mightiest  names  that 
adorn  the  annals  of  our  race,  that  have  shed  a  lustre  upon  lit- 
erature and  science,  upon  arts  and  upon  arms — a  Xewton, 
a  Bacon,  a   Locke,  an   Addison,  a   Boyle,  and   last,  though 

5* 


106  THE   RESURRECTION   OF  CHRIST. 

not  least,  the  soldier,  the  patriot,  the  statesman,  the  admira- 
tion of  all  nations  and  the  father  of  his  own,  the  immortal 
Washington. 

But  if  the  events  of  his  life  were  wonderful,  still  more 
astonishing  were  the  circumstances  that  attended,  that  pre- 
ceded and  followed  his  death.  And  we  propose  to  present 
this  day  before  you  a  portion  of  that  evidence,  which  leads  us 
to  believe  that  the  faith  of  eighteen  centuries  is  not  founded  on 
a  fable  ;  but  that  the  "  Lord  is  risen  indeed."  And,  surely,  if 
there  be  in  all  history  a  single  page,  which  for  its  singularity 
and  importance  deserves  the  serious  and  scrutinizing  investi- 
gation of  every  reflecting  man,  it  is  that  which  records  the 
strange  event  that  formed  the  turning  point  in  the  faith  of 
nations,  and  still  continues  to  influence  so  extensively  the 
w^hole  moral,  social,  and  civil  condition  and  destiny  of  our 
race. 

We  remark,  1st.  That  he  foretold  his  own  death,  the  time, 
place,  circumstances,  and  results ;  and  promised  his  disciples 
that  he  would  rise  again,  and  thus  vindicate  his  claims  as  a 
teacher  sent  from  God. 

So  numerous  and  so  various  are  these  predictions,  that  the 
only  difficulty  lies  in  selecting  from  them  all  such  as  shall 
appear  most  striking.  They  were  delivered  in  public  and  in 
private,  before  friends  and  foes,  at  distant  intervals  of  time, 
and  under  every  variety  of  circumstances.  Now  they  are  sug- 
gested by  a  hint  or  an  allusion,  now  casually  introduced  into 
conversation  upon  some  other  subject,  now  formally  stated  and 
explained  for  the  instruction  of  his  disciples.  As  he  stood  in 
the  temple,  and  the  Jews  asked  for  a  sign,  he  said,  "  Destroy 
this  temple,  and  in  three  days  I  will  raise  it  up  again ; "  and 
again,  "  No  sign  shall  be  given  to  this  generatio'n  but  the  sign 
of  Jonas,  the  prophet,  for  as  Jonas  was  three  days  and  nights 
in  the  whale's  belly,  so  shall  the  Son  of  man  be  three  days  and 
nights  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth."  (John,  ii.  19  ;  Matt.  xii.  40.) 
Again,  descending  from  the  mount  of  transfiguration,  "  lie 
charged  his  disciples  to  tell  no  man  what  they  had  seen  till  the 
Son  of  man  was  risen  from  the  dead."   Again  (Matt.  xvi.  21),  it 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  CHRIST.  107 

is  said,  "  From  this  time  forth  began  Jesus"— clearly  indicating 
something  habitual — *'  to  show  unto  his  disciples  how  that  he 
must  go  up  to  Jerusalem  and  sutler  many  things  of  the  chief 
priests  and  scribes  and  be  killed,  and  he  raised  agam  the  third 
day:'  In  Luke,  xiii.  33,  he  says  distinctly,  that  he  would  die  at 
Jerusalem,  "  for  it  is  impossible  that  a  prophet  perish  out  of 
Jerusalem."  Still  more  minutely  do  we  find  all  the  prominent 
circumstances  of  his  death  predicted  in  Matt.  xx.  17-19  :  "  And 
Jesus  going  up  to  Jerusalem  took  his  disciples  apart,  and  said 
unto  them.  Behold,  we  go  up  to  Jerusalem  ;  and  the  Son  of 
man  shall  be  betrayed  unto  the  chief  priests  and  unto  the 
scribes,  and  they  shall  condemn  him  to  death,  and  shall 
deliver  him  to  the  Gentiles  to  mock  and  to  scourge  and  to 
crucify  him :  and  the  third  day  he  shall  rise  again." 

Observe  how  many  circumstances  are  here  minutely  specified: 
1st,  That  he  should  not  be  seized  openly,  as  he  taught  in  the 
temple,  but  should  be  betrayed  ;  2d,  Xot  to  the  Romans,  who 
were  to  condemn  and  execute  him,  but  to  the  priests  and 
scribes ;  3d,  He  was  to  be  delivered  to  the  Gentiles,  and  not 
stoned  by  the  Jews,  as  their  law  required  in  every  case  of  blas- 
phemy ;  4tli,  To  be  mocked  and  scourged ;  5th,  To  be  crucified, 
contrary  to  all  the  Jewish  customs;  and  6th,  To  be  con- 
demned by  the  Jews,  though  executed  by  the  Gentiles ;  they 
were  to  try  and  condemn  him  first  for  blasphemy,  and  then 
prosecute  him  on  a  charge  of  treason  and  sedition  before  the 
Roman  governor. 

Xow  it  was  natural  to  expect  that  death  would  terminate 
his  career,  and  that  the  doctrines  of  this  crucified  malefactor 
would  soon  become  extinct.  Such  was  the  hope  of  his  enemies, 
and  such  the  fear  of  his  former  friends.  But  the  eye  before 
which  all  time  lies  equally  revealed,  beheld,  in  the  distant 
future,  a  far  different  prospect.  He  predicted  that  the  very 
means  employed  for  his  disgrace  and  ruin,  would  only  redound 
to  his  glory,  and  multiply  incalculably,  through  all  ages,  the 
number  of  his  followers.  Just  before  his  death  he  exclaimed, 
"  The  hour  is  come  that  the  Son  of  man  should  be  glorified ;" 
and  again,  "  And  I,  if  I  be  lifted  up  [on  the  cross],  will  draw 


108  THE   EESURRECTION   OF  CHRIST. 

all  men  unto  me ; "  "  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  except  a  grain  of 
wheat  fall  into  the  ground  and  die,  it  abideth  alone ;  but  if  it 
die,  it  bringeth  forth  much  fruit ;"  thus,  by  a  beautiful  analogy, 
pointing  forward  to  that  glorious  harvest  which  should  spring 
up  from  his  grave  and  bring  forth  fruit  unto  eternal  life. 

But  it  is  useless  to  multiply  quotations.     Those  who  have 
even  only  a  general  and  superficial  acquaintance  with  the  Xew 
Testament,  cannot  fail  to  remember  that  his  own  death  and 
resurrection  were  not  only  the  subject  of  frequent  conversation, 
from  the  commencement  to  the  close  of  his  ministry,  but  that 
they  were  openly  avowed  by  him  as. the  very  end  and  object 
of  his  existence — the  great  purpose  for  which  he  came  into  the 
world.     He  was  introdnced  by  John  the  Baptist  at  first  as 
"  the  Lamb  of  God  that  taketh  [or  beareth]  away  the  sin  of 
the  world  ;"  and   the  last  hours  of  his  intercourse  with  his 
disciples  were  spent  in  celebrating  a  most  affecting  memorial 
of  his  approaching  death  and  swfterings,  in  which  he  represents 
his  "blood  as  shed  for  the  remission  of  sins."     The  prophet 
Isaiah  had  long  before  predicted  of  the  Messiah  that  he  should 
be  "  brouo'ht  as  a  lamb  to  the  slauo^hter,"  that  he  should  bear 
our  sins,  be  wounded  for  our  iniquities,  and  bruised  for  our 
transgressions.     To  this  the  Baptist  referred  when  he  pointed 
to  the  Saviour  and  said,  "Behold  the  Lamb  of  God  that  beareth 
the  sins  of  the  world."     Aild  to  this  the  Saviour  undoubtedly 
alludes  in  the  solemn  language  of  the  final  supper.     Indeed, 
his  own  death  forms  an  essential  and  inseparable  part  of  his 
religious  system.     It  is  not  only  interwoven  with  the  other 
doctrines  of  that  system,  but  it  is  the  foundation  of  them  all. 
It  is  the  very  substance  and  essence  of  his  whole  doctrine — 
the  grand  peculiarity  which  distinguishes  it  from  every  other. 
Without  the  propitiatory  death,  and  suiferings,  and  resurrec- 
tion of  the  Saviour,  in  what  would  Christianity  differ  from  any 
other  enlightened  system  of  morality  ?     If,  then,  this  extraor- 
dinary person  had  any  plan  at  all,  his  own  death  and  resurrec- 
tion formed  an  essential  part — nay,  were  the  very  centre  and 
substance  of  that  plan. 

Now  this  is  the  point  of  our  argument.    We  humbly  conceive 


THE  EESURRECTION  OF  CHRIST.  109 

that  this  fact  is  altogether  inexplicable  on  any  possible  theory 
of  the  Savionr's  character,  except  the  Christian  theory.  AVe 
care  not  what  hypothesis  you  adopt — whether  you  consider 
him  an  ardent  enthusiast  who  really  believed  himself  div^inely 
commissioned  from  on  high ;  or  an  artful  impostor,  endeavoring 
to  delude  others  for  his  aggrandizement;  or  a  wise  and  benev- 
olent man,  elevated  above  the  prejudices  of  his  Jewish  faitli, 
yet  conforming  to  them  all  as  for  the  benefit  of  others,  prac- 
tising a  species  of  pious  fraud  on  the  community,  whose  welfare 
he  sincerely  desired  to  promote.  On  either  hypothesis  the  facts 
are  equally  inexplicable.  Xowwe  do  not  feel  disposed  to  deny 
or  conceal  the  fact,  that  there  was  much  in  the  circumstances 
and  the  spirit  of  the  times  well  calculated  to  excite  the  imagi- 
nation and  stimulate  the  passions  of  an  ardent  enthusiast. 
We  learn  from  various  sources,  from  Joseph  us  and  Tacitus  and 
Suetonius,  that  there  existed  then,  and  from  Virgil  and  Cicero 
that  there  existed  some  time  before,  a  universal  expectation  of 
some  mighty  prince,  who,  issuing  from  Syria  or  Judea,  was  to 
subdue  the  world.  Such  a  conqueror  the  Jew  expected  to 
behold  in  the  person  of  the  long-looked-for  and  predicted 
Messiah;  and  accordingly  of  the  many  enthusiasts  or  impostors 
who  assumed  that  character  in  the  latter  days  of  the  Jewish 
commonwealth,  we  are  informed  by  Josephus  that  there  was 
not  one  who  did  not  deceive  himself,  or  attempt  to  impose  on 
others,  with  the  vain  promise  of  divine  interposition,  for  the 
purpose  of  temporal  deliverance  and  woi'ldly  glory  for  his 
chosen  people.  Under  such  enthusiasts  the  Jews  were  ever 
ready  to  enlist  by  hundreds  and  thousands  to  fight  the  battles 
of  the  Lord.  And  so  strong  was  their  confidence  in  the 
expected  deliverance  for  Israel,  that  even  in  Jerusalem's  last 
extremity  they  followed  one  of  these  enthusiasts,  who  promised 
them  deliverance  in  the  temple,  and  six  thousand  perished 
miserably  in  the  flames  that  consumed  it. 

Now,  if  Christ  had  been  such  an  enthusiast,  he  must  have 
partaken  of  the  spirit  of  the  age  ;  he  would  have  dreamed  of 
victory  and  glory,  of  temporal  deliverance  for  Israel,  of  a  wide, 
extended  dominion  over  tlie  heathen.     To  break  the  Roman 


110  THE   RESURRECTION  OF  CHRIST. 

yoke  from  off  tlie  neck  of  the  nations,  and  bear  the  lion  of  the 
tribe  of  Judah  aloft  over  the  Roman  eagle,  would  have  been 
an  enterprise  congenial  with  such  a  temper.  But  surely,  of  all 
conceivable  events,  an  ignominious  and  painful  death  for  him- 
self, the  cowardly  flight  and  cruel  sufferings  of  his  disciples, 
would  have  had  fewer  attractions  for  such  an  imagination. 
That  would  be  indeed  a  strange  enthusiasm  which,  during  a 
whole  life-time,  could  regale  itself  most  enthusiastically  Avitli 
the  delicious  anticipation  of  torture  and  disgrace,  which  should 
make  this  the  object  of  all  its  efforts,  the  consummation  of  all 
its  desires. 

But  perhaps  he  was  an  imj^ostor  ?  Neither  will  this  hypothe- 
sis agree  with  the  acknowledged  facts  of  the  case.  An  impostor 
endeavors  to  impose  a  falsehood  upon  others  for  the  purpose 
of  promoting  some  selfish  object  of  his  own.  Now,  was  it  ever 
known,  is  it  even  conceivable,  that  any  man  should  coolly  and 
deliberately  devise  a  system  of  which  his  own  death — violent, 
excruciating,  disgraceful — was  to  be  the  prominent  part,  the 
very  centre  and  consummation  of  the  whole  ?  We  say  that  in 
all  his  labors  and  exertions  there  must  be  some  object.  But 
did  any  man  ever  employ  his  whole  life  in  deliberately  devising 
his  own  death  and  disgrace  ?  Again,  whatever  was  his  scheme, 
he  must  have  wished  it  to  succeed,  and  could  never  volunta- 
rily have  placed  its  success  upon  an  issue  which  he  must  have 
known  would  unmask  his  imposture,  expose  and  explode  the 
whole.  For  the  sake  of  illustration,  suppose  there  were  some 
strange  impostor  here,  endeavoring  to  palm  some  new  system 
on  our  belief,  and  we  should  propose  to  him,  deliberately  to 
suffer  death,  and  then  promise,  that  if  he  would  rise  again  we 
would  embrace  his  system.  What  impostor  would  accept  such 
a  proposition  ?  Yet  this  is  the  very  proposition  which  the 
Saviour  again  and  again  presented  to  the  Jews.  If,  then,  he 
was  an  impostor,  he  deliberately  and  voluntarily  did  that 
which  must  necessarily  unmask  his  imposture  and  prevent  his 
success  forever.  That  is,  he  was  an  impostor,  who,  after  all, 
did  not  desire  to  impose. 

But  was  he  an  amiable  and  benevolent  man,  wielding  the 


THE   RESURRECTION  OF  CHRIST.  Ill 

prejudices  of  his  countryraen  for  tlieir  own  improvement, 
and  promoting  virtue  by  a  pious  fraud  ?  Xow  we  pause  not 
to  show  how  utterly  inconsistent  this  supposition  is  witli  our 
Saviour's  whole  character,  with  the  high  and  solemn  earnest- 
ness of  his  whole  nature.  It  is  by  for  the  most  plausible  of  the 
three  opinions,  and  that  usually  adopted  now  by  enlightened 
and  philosophic  unbelievers.  Yet  w^e  must  be  permitted  to 
say,  it  involves  a  moral  impossibility.  It  is  not  impossible 
that  such  a  man  should  die  a  martyr  to  his  opinions,  and  thus 
leave  behind  the  strongest  testimony  of  the  sincerity  with 
which  he  held  them ;  but  it  is  impossible  that  he  should  ex- 
pose all  his  pretensions  to  a  test  which,  from  its  very  nature, 
must  inevitably  eventuate  in  his  own  disgrace,  and  involve  his 
doctrine  and  his  followers  in  universal  contempt.  He  must 
have  known  that  he  could  not  rise.  Now  observe,  if  he  did 
not,  all  was  lost.  Whatever  might  have  been  his  purpose,  it 
failed,  certainly,  necessarily,  hopelessly,  forever.  All  the  labors 
and  sufferings  of  his  whole  life  had  been  in  vain ;  all  the  good 
he  had  already  done  Avas  lost ;  all  he  hoped  to  do  was  resigned 
— nay,  voluntarily  thrown  away  on  an  experiment,  which  he 
must  have  known  would  fail ;  and  all  this  without  a  motive — 
causelessly,  senselessly,  madly.  AYhy  did  he  not  die  as  did 
the  great  and  holy  men  that  had  gone  before  him,  a  martyr 
to  his  principles,  and  leave  his  bright  examj^le  a  glorious  legacy 
to  coming  generations  ? 

If,  then,  his  scheme  was  not  jDurposely  suicidal,  if  it  was  no 
part  of  his  design  to  thwart  his  own  designs,  prosecuted  sedu- 
lously through  his  whole  life,  he  could  never  have  proposed  a 
test  of  the  truth  of  his  pretensions  which  7ntcst  eventuate  in 
their  complete  and  disgraceful  overthrow.  There  remains  but 
one  possible  opinion,  that  he  really  believed  his  own  predic- 
tions, and  met  death  voluntarily  in  the  confident  expectation 
that  he  would  rise  again  ;  and  if  he  really  believed  this,  his 
belief  must  have  been  founded  on  the  inward  consciousness  of 
his  own  high  power  to  lay  down  his  life  and  to  take  it  again. 
Now  the  minds  of  men  are  so  differently  constituted  that  we 
cannot  determine  how  this  species  of  evidence  may  appear  to 


112  THE   RESURRECTION'  OP   CHRIST. 

most  of  you ;  but  to  my  own  mind  it  comes  with  a  force  of 
probability  amounting  almost  to  a  moral  demonstration. 

2d.  He  really  was  crucified  and  buried,  and  on  the  third  day 
his  body  was  missing.  These  are  the  admitted  facts — admit- 
ted by  Jew  and  Gentile.  That  his  body  had  disappeared  from 
the  sepulchre  is  evident,  from  the  fact  that  it  was  not  produced 
by  the  high  priests,  when,  soon  after  his  death,  they  were 
charged  with  his  murder,  and  his  resurrection  was  boldly 
proclaimed  by  St.  Peter. 

Xow,  but  two  suppositions  are  possible.  (We  must  draw 
our  own  conclusions  from  the  facts.)  He  either  rose  again  by 
his  own  power,  or  his  disciples  stole  him  away,  and  knowingly 
palmed  a  fjilsehood  on  the  world.  Against  this  latter  supposi- 
tion of  the  infidel  much  may  be  urged  which  appears  like  solid 
and  convincing  argument.  Consider  the  character  of  the  disci- 
ples, and  the  circumstances  of  the  case.  It  was  the  feast  of  the 
Passover,  and  the  thousands  and  ten  thousands  and  hundred 
thousands  of  the  Jewish  people  (for  Josephus  informs  us  that  at 
the  feast  which  preceded  the  fall  of  Jerusalem  two  millions 
were  collected  there)  were  gathered,  not  only  from  every  cor- 
ner of  Judea,  but  from  every  portion  of  the  habitable  globe. 
They  had  brought  with  them,  as  an  offering  to  the  Lord,  their 
cattle,  their  sheep,  their  goats.  The  city  would  not  contain 
them  all,  and  with  their  families  and  flocks  they  were  en- 
camped in  the  suburbs  of  the  city,  in  the  numerous  fields, 
gardens,  and  vineyards  that  lay  around.  It  was  the  full  moon, 
and  in  the  clear  atmosphere  of  an  eastern  climate,  all  was  as 
distinctly  visible  as  by  the  light  of  day.  The  sepulchre  was 
situated  in  one  of  those  gardens  that  lay  under  the  Avails  of 
tlie  city  ;  and  aroand  it  were  spread  out  the  tents  of  the  pil- 
grims that  had  come  up  thither  to  worship  in  the  holy  city. 
It  was  sealed  with  the  broad  seal  of  the  Roman  government. 
It  was  guarded  by  the  bold  and  watchful  soldiers  of  a  Roman 
cohort.  For  the  priests  had  gone  to  Pilate  and  said,  "  Sir,  we 
remember  that  this  deceiver  said,  while  he  Was  yet  alive,  After 
three  days  I  will  rise  again."     (Matt,  xxvii.  63.) 

Thus  carefully  was  the  sepulchre  secured.     That  seal  it  was 


THE  RESURRECTION   OF  CHRIST.  113 

treason  to  break.  To  slumber  on  liis  watch  was  death  to  the 
Roman  soklier.  There  lay  the  dead  impostor,  cold  in  his  sep- 
ulchre of  stone.  It  was  a  bold  and  dangerous  attempt  to  pass, 
at  dead  of  night,  amidst  all  those  crowded  tents,  evade  the 
vigilance  of  a  Ivoman  guard,  and  steal  away  the  body  espe- 
cially committed  to  their  care.  Wlio  should  roll  away  the 
stone  ?  Of  sixty  soldiers  trained  to  endure  all  the  hardships 
of  war,  and  accustomed  to  all  the  severity  of  Roman  disci- 
pline, it  was  scarcely  possible  that  all  should  sleep  at  once. 
But  if  all  were  asleep,  how  lightly  does  the  soldier  slumber  at 
liis  post,  Jeaning  on  the  top  of  his  spear?  How  readily  does 
he  start  at  the  slightest  sound — the  bark  of  a  dog  from  a 
neighboring  tent,  the  sound  of  a  sheep  bell,  the  lowing  of  a 
cow,  the  rustling  of  a  leaf,  the  crackling  of  a  stick  beneath 
the  cautious  and  stealthy  tread  of  the  nocturnal  adventurer  ? 
>7ay,  the  sighing  of  the  wind,  as  it  passeth  over  the  neighbor- 
ing mountains,  and  among  the  vines  around,  might  wake  that 
soldier  from  his  stolen  repose.  And  then  detection  was  una- 
voidable, and  on  detection  death  was  certain.  Xow,  who  are 
those  bold  and  daring  men,  skilled  in  all  the  stratagems  of 
war,  trained  to  endure  its  hardships  and  brave  all  its  dangers, 
who  shall,  under  the  broad  moonlight,  thread  those  crowded 
tents,  elude  the  vigilance  of  sixty  Roman  soldiers,  and  steal 
away  the  very  object  they  had  been  sent  to  guard  ?  A  few  poor 
fishermen.  It  was  but  two  days  ago,  and  they  all  fled  at  the 
very  sight  of  danger  ;  and  the  boldest  among  them,  with  curs- 
ing and  sweai-ing,  denied  that  he  had  ever  known  this  man. 
Dispirited,  chagrined,  hopeless,  at  the  death  of  their  leader, 
would  they  have  dared  to  attempt  so  dangerous  an  enter- 
prise ?  And  if  they  had  attempted  it,  Avhere  was  the  pros- 
pect of  success  ?  The  supposition  is  in  the  highest  degree 
improbable. 

But  this  improbability  rises  into  impossibility  on  one  side, 
and  moral  certainty  on  the  other,  when  we  consider.  First. 
They  had  no  inducement  falsely  to  assert  the  resurrection  of 
the  Saviour,  bjiit  every  inducement  to  the  contrary.  No  in- 
ducement!    If  any,  what?     You  say,  "a  thousand  decejjtions 


114  THE  RESURREOTIOiT  OP  CHRIST. 

and  impositions  daily  occur,  and  so,  probably,  it  was  in  this 
case."  We  have  often  wondered  that  men  can  go  to  the  verge 
of  truth  and  yet  not  see  it.  Men  who  can  pass  from  individual 
facts  to  the  principles  on  which  they  depend  do  not  see  that 
this  is  only  confirmation  of  our  argument. 

We  care  not  whether  you  take  it  up  historically  or  philo- 
sophically ;  dive  into  the  bosom  of  man,  or  read  the  record  of 
his  acts.  It  is  equally  apparent,  that  amidst  all  these  various 
deceptions  there  is  one  principle  at  the  bottom :  that  in  every 
case  recorded  in  history,  or  conceivable  by  man's  mind,  decep- 
tion has  originated  in  some  selfish  motive, — pride,  hatred, 
interest  of  some  sort.  So  that  expatiate  as  you  please  over 
the  whole  field  of  human  deception,  we  accompany  you  with 
l^leasure,  knowing  well,  that  as  you  accumulate  fresh  instances 
of  human  depravity  you  only  add  strength  to  our  argument; 
and  each  excursion  brings  back  new  materials  to  build  up  the 
bulwarks  of  our  faith,  fresh  illustrations  of  the  truth — that 
human  acts  are  guided  by  human  motives ;  and  in  the  whole  cat- 
alogue of  crimes  none  can  be  found  without  motive,  in  the  grat- 
ification of  some  known  desire,  passion,  or  propensity  of  man. 

We  challenge  any  one  to  say  what  motive  was  possible  in 
this  case.  Mr.  Hume  endeavors  to  evade  argument.  How?  By 
saying,  "  We  are  not  bound  to  account  for  every  act  of  every 
devotee."  Granted.  But  we  do  not  ask  you  to  enter  the 
mind  and  say  which  of  various  possible  motives  may  have 
prompted  certain  acts,  but  only  to  show  that,  of  all  these  mo- 
tives, some  may  possibly  have  operated — that  deception  was 
not  impossible  in  this  case  according  to  the  known  laws  of 
human  action.  We  say  it  vkis.  And  we  return  to  our  ques- 
tion :  What  motive  had  they  to  deceive  ?  Wealth,  honor, 
ease — all  these  were  jeoparded ;  nay,  certainly  lost ;  and  it  is 
no  dogmatism  to  say,  that  where  povex'ty,  disgrace,  persecu- 
tion, were  certain  consequences,  the  oj^posite  advantages  could 
not  be  the  motive  of  action. 

This  leads  us  to  observe,  that  not  only  was  there  a  want  of 
motive,  but,  secondly^  every  motive  was  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion.    If  Christ  rose  not,  he  was  not  the  Messiah,  but  an  im- 


THE  RESURRECTION   OF  CHRIST.  115 

postor,  wlio,  grossly,  shamefully,  deliberately  imposed  on  them 
and  involved  them  in  his  own  disgrace  and  persecution.  Hope 
deferred  maketh  the  heart  sick ;  but  liope  mocked,  confidence 
betrayed,  turns  into  bitterest  hatred.  And  as  they  thought 
of  their  blighted  hopes,  could  tliey  laud  their  deceiver  ?  Nay, 
risk  life,  and  all  life  holds  dear,  to  advance  his  glory  ?  Trans- 
port yourself  for  a  moment  to  that  age  and  country,  become  a 
Jew  in  hope  and  in  feeling,  and  tell  me  whether  you  could 
have  lauded  and  loved  a  Messiah  who  had  thus  deceived  you 
and  blasted  all  your  hopes  of  glory  ? 

Hence  the  disciples  were  really  slow  to  believe,  cautious  to 
examine.  One  had  to  thrust  his  hand  into  His  hands  and  side. 
Again.  It  was  to  lose  all  things  with  the  remotest  prospect 
of  any  gain.  Throw  yourself  into  their  position.  A  few  indi- 
viduals, ignorant,  unknown,  without  wealth  or  connections, 
or  eloquence  or  power — helpless  as  children,  they  had  hung 
upon  their  leader;  timid  as  women,  they  had  fled  at  the  first 
approach  of  danger ;  and  they  were  now  surrounded  by  priests 
flushed  with  victory,  and  their  appetites  whetted  by  the  taste 
of  blood,  whose  malignity  slew  their  leader,  and  was  ready  to 
devour  them  also.  If  they  had  formed  a  combination  to  de- 
ceive, the  very  soul  and  life  of  the  conspiracy  was  gone.  If 
deceived  themselves  before,  the  delusion  had  vanished  at  his 
death.  Whatever  might  have  been  their  scheme,  that  which 
was  dangerous  before  had  now  become  desperate.  The  work 
of  destruction  once  begun  "svould  certainly  go  on.  They  who 
cursed  and  crucified  the  living  and  wonder-working  prophet, 
"would  scarcely  worship  the  crucified  malefactor.  The  exalta- 
tion which  the  Jew  expected  for  his  Messiah  was  to  a  throne 
of  princely  dominion,  not  to  a  cross  between  two  thieves.  To 
those  who  know^  the  inveteracy  of  early  prejudices,  the  bitter- 
ness of  religious  fanaticism,  the  desolating  fury  of  that  fiery 
zeal  which  thinks  to  do  God  service  by  slaughtering  his  crea- 
tures, it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  remark,  that  defenceless 
followers  of  a  crucified  leader  could  hope  for  safety  only  in 
retirement  and  silence ;  and  to  renew  his  claims  was  to  brave 
persecution  and  death  in  their  most  homd  forms. 


116  THE  EESURRECTION"   OP  CHRIST. 

But  perhaps  tliey  expected  a  better  reception  by  the  world. 
No.  Their  prophetic  master  had  foretold  distinctly  the  extent 
and  kind  of  tlieir  suiferings.  Yet  with  these  consequences  full 
before  them,  the  very  men  ^ho  had  abandoned  him  in  dismay 
when  alive  dared  all  danger  in  attestation  of  his  resurrection. 
The  fury  of  the  mob,  the  power  and  malice  of  the  priests,  were 
unheeded,  and  they  went  forth  proclaiming  him  "  Lord  of  Life 
and  Glory "  in  the  streets,  in  the  temple,  before  the  Sanhe- 
drim. They  were  beaten,  and  thanked  God  for  the  honor. 
When  imprisoned,  the  jail  resounded  with  their  songs  of  exul- 
tation and  praise.  And  at  last  a  life  of  ignominy,  suffering, 
danger,  incessant  toil,  was  terminated  by  a  death  whose  hor- 
ror we  sliudder  to  recite.  But  they  rejoiced  to  endure  in  tes- 
timony of  their  fidelity  to  Him,  the  despised  and  crucified,  the 
risen  and  exalted  one. 

Ah  !  some  strange  influence  must  have  issued  from  that 
grave  thus  to  give  A'igor  to  the  nerveless,  and  manly  courage 
to  the  timid,  and  cause  him,  who  just  before  trembled  at  a 
woman's  voice,  and  with  cursing  and  swearing  denied  his  Lord, 
now  boldly  to  teach  in  the  temple,  and  fearlessly  denounce  the 
high  priests  in  their  own  Sanhedrim.  Xow  what  was  to  be 
gained,  let  me  ask,  by  such  a  procedure  ?  Much,  if.stripes  and 
imprisonment  and  persecution  and  universal  hatred  and  deri- 
sion be  indeed  a  gain.  And  what  vras  to  be  lost  ?  Nothing, 
if  property  and  character  and  life  be  of  no  value.  But  if  tliey 
suff^ered  much  from  the  bigotry  of  their  own  countrymen,  they 
endured  still  more  from  the  fierce  intolerance  of  the  heathen. 
Christ  foretold  this,  St.  Paul  said,  "  Li  every  city  persecution 
and  bonds  await  me."  And  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  is  but 
the  record  of  the  labors  and  sufferings  of  the  Apostles.  But 
we  need  not  refer  to  Christian  histories ;  enough  is  related  by 
heathen  writers.  We  are  informed  by  Tacitus  that  thirty 
years  after  the  death  of  Christ,  a  vast  multitude  of  Christians 
were  in  Rome,  and  suflTered  persecution.  And  the  pliilosophic 
liistorian  remarks,  that,  though  Xero's  charge  was  false,  they 
were  "  a  pernicious  superstition,  and  deserved  the  severest 
punishment."     Pliny  and  Trajan,  the  most  amiable  of  philoso- 


» 


THE   RESURRECTION   OF   CHRIST.  1  ]  7 

pliers  and  best  of  emperors,  agreed  that  the  Christians  ought 
to  be  punished,  at  any  rate,  for  their  obstinacy  in  adhering  to 
their  faith.  What,  then,  had  they  to  expect  from  the  malice 
of  interested  priests  and  a  fanatical  populace  ?  Ten  persecu- 
tions by  imperial  authority,  bloody  and  desolating,  follo^'ed, 
while  the  hatred  of  the  heathen  populace  was  perpetual  and 
universal.     Suttonius,  Juvenal,  Martial,  all  confirm  the  same. 

Since  such  was  the  spirit  of  Jew  aud  Gentile,  and  such  the 
sufterings  they  endured  voluntarily,  we  may  surely  say,  that 
in  attesting  the  resurrection  of  Christ  they  lost  all  earthly 
good,  without  the  slightest  prospect  or  possibility  of  earthly 
gain.  Now  we  make  bold  to  say,  that  it  is  not  only  in  the 
highest  degree  improbable,  but  absolutely  impossible,  that 
men  should  thus  expose  themselves  to  the  certainty  of  utter 
ruin,  in  support  of  a  known  falsehood,  which  they,  after  all, 
have  no  interest  to  support.  It  supposes  the  utter  subversion 
of  all  the  principles  of  our  nature.  It  is  not  only  impossible, 
but  self-contradictory  to  assert,  that  any  human  being  would 
thus  act,  not  only  without  any  motive,  but  against  all  motives. 
This  would  be  conclusive  from  the  case  of  one  person.  But 
the  argument  acquires  (if  possible)  additional  cumulative 
strength,  Avhen  we  remember  the  numbers  engaged  in  this 
supposed  conspiracy  to  deceive  the  world — twelve,  one  hun- 
dred and  twent}^,  five  hundred ;  many  of  whom,  if  not  all, 
must  have  known  the  deception  ;  and  any  one  of  whom,  at 
any  time,  might  have  gained,  not  mere  exemption,  but  rich 
rewards,  by  exposhig  the  fraud.  Yet  no  bribery  could  ever 
buy  the  secret,  no  skill  detect  it,  no  torture  wring  it  out.  And 
though  many  were  thus  forced  to  renounce  the  Saviour,  none 
ever  dreamed  of  exposing  what  did  not  exist  to  be  exposed. 

It  is  easy  to  conceive  the  value  which  would  be  attached  by 
Jewish  or  heathen  priests  to  a  secret  which  would  crush  at 
once  this  new  and  growing  sect.  Even  supposing  a  combina- 
tion to  have  been  formed  with  the  vain  hope  of  personal 
advantage,  it  must  have  sooai  appeared  how  hopeless  was  the 
enterprise,  and  the  bond  of  mutual  interest  which  bound  them 
being  broken,  they  who  began  with  deceiving  the  world  would 


118  THE   RESURRECTION   OF  CHRIST. 

certainly  have  ended  with  betraying  one  another.  The  argu- 
ment then  is  cumulative.  "  Honor  among  robbers,"  may  be 
alleged  in  reply.  But  this  confirms  our  argument.  It  is  only 
a  sense  of  common  interest.  And  thus,  if  you  look  on  society 
on  every  side,  the  highest  and  lowest,  you  will  find  but  two 
levers  which  move  all  things — interest  and  moral  sense.  But 
every  principle  of  self  interest  was  against  the  Apostles'  course. 
They  must  then  have  been  guided  by  moral  principle.  Here, 
then,  we  plant  ourselves,  and  think  our  position  impregnable, 
and  say,  that  without  an  utter  and  inconceivable  subversion 
of  all  the  principles  of  human  belief  in  ourselves,  and  of  human 
conduct  in  others,  it  is  impossible  to  doubt  the  sincerity  and 
truth  of  their  testimony  to  the  resurrection  of  Christ. 


II. 

THE  SIN  AND  FOLLY  OF  ATHEISM. 


Psalm  liii.  1.— "The  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart,  There  is  no  God.' 


Ix  nothing  does  the  cliflference  more  strikingly  appear 
between  the  truth  of  God  and  the  opinions  of  men,  than  in 
the  comparative  estimate  which  they  make  of  the  wisdom  and 
folly  of  human  character  and  conduct.  He  is  the  wise  man, 
according  to  the  maxims  of  this  world's  philosophy,  who  saga- 
ciously devises  and  vigorously  executes  some  scheme  of  secular 
aggrandizement — who,  whether  he  aims  at  distinction  or  at 
wealth,  coolly  and  comprehensively  surveys  the  various  causes 
which  may  promote  or  thwart  his  interests,  and,  neglecting  all 
secondary  objects,  skilfully  employs  his  own  resources  and  dex- 
terously guides  the  feelings  and  passions  of  men  around  liim,  to 
promote  the  one  great  object  of  his  washes  and  his  efforts.  And 
it  is  easy  to  perceive,  when  such  an  individual  mingles  in  the 
common  crowd  of  his  fellow-citizens,  from  the  respectful  def- 
erence with  which  his  opinion  is  always  asked,  and  the  close 
attention  with  which,  like  the  response  of  an  oracle,  the  reply 
is  listened  to,  that  he  has  closely  marked  the  course  of  trade, 
or  diligently  studied  the  passions  of  men,  or  has  successfully 
applied  his  observations  to  the  extension  of  his  fortune  or  his 
fame. 

Or  perhaps  his  mind  has  moved  in  a  wider  circle  and  com- 
prehended larger  interests.  The  sagacity  which  might  have 
advanced  his  personal  wealth  or  ambition,  may  be  employed 
about  the  interests  of  his  neighborhood,  or,  taking  a  still  wider 
range,  may  embrace,  in  its  capacious  grasp,  the  interests  of  a 
state  or  an  empire.     He  may  have  read  all  history  and  studied 


l^'O  THE   Sm   AND   FOLLY   OF   ATHEISM. 

all  philosophy.  He  may  be  deeply  versed  in  the  science  of  gov- 
ernment and  human  nature,  and  be  intimately  acquainted  with 
the  2)resent  relations  and  conflicting  interests  of  the  most  dis- 
tant countries.  He  may  bring  light  from  the  past  to  shine  upon 
the  present  and  illumine  the  future,  and  in  the  darkest  hours  of 
a  nation's  peril  this  pilot  of  the  state  may  guide  the  vessel 
safely  through  a  stormy  sea,  till  she  reaches  the  destined  port 
and  swings  securely  fi'om  her  moorings.  And  it  is  in  just  such 
a  case  as  this,  when  the  greatest  of  earthly  efforts  has  accom- 
plished the  greatest  of  earthl}^  objects,  and  obtained  the  great- 
est of  earthly  rewards,  that  the  difterence  most  manifestly 
appears  between  the  wisdom  of  this  world  and  that  which 
Cometh  from  above.  The  name  of  a  successful  statesman  is 
upon  every  tongue,  and  the  praise  of  his  wisdom  is  proclaimed 
by  every  voice ;  and  as  he  is  charioted  along  in  splendor,  the 
opening  crowd  joyfully  greet  his  approach,  and  man  presses 
close  U2:)on  his  neighbor,  that  he  may  hear  the  accents  of  his 
lips,  or  exhibit  some  testimony  of  his  cordial  admiration. 

And  yet,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  admiration  from  man,  there 
may  be  that  in  the  character  and  conduct  of  this  universal 
favorite  which  stamps  upon  him,  in  the  eye  of  God,  marks  of 
the  most  egregious  folly.  And,  even  as  he  would  look  with 
contemptuous  disapprobation  upon  the  contracted  views  of 
some  simple  peasant,  whose  thoughts  all  centring  on  the  pres- 
ent moment  and  the  present  spot,  never  look  onward  to  the 
future  interests  of  a  wide-spread  nation,  thus  may  He,  who 
sitteth  in  presiding  dignity  over  all  worlds  and  comprehendeth 
eternity  at  a  glance,  laugh  to  scorn  the  imaginary  wisdom  of 
the  man  whose  mind  never  ventured  away  from  earth  to  hold 
communion  with  heaven,  whose  views  are  limited  to  a  few 
short  years  of  a  fleeting  and  uncertain  pilgrimage,  who  neg- 
.lects  his  best  and  highest  interests  for  the-  sake  of  a  temporary 
gratification,  who  is  wise  for  time  but  not  for  eternity.  Of 
such  a  man,  however  exalted  in  station,  however  ennobled  by 
birth,  however  adorned  with  learning,  the  Bible  says  he  is  a 
fool.  The  fool,  then,  who  is  spoken  of  in  the  text,  is  not  the 
man  who  reasons  feebly  and  acts  injudiciously  in  the  common 


THE   SIN  AND  FOLLY  OF  ATHEISM.  121 

affairs  of  life,  but  he  who  neglects  the  one  thing  needful,  who 
liiis  not  the  beginning  of  wisdom,  which  is  the  fear  of  the 
Lord.  Of  such  it  is  said — of  every  sinner  it  is  said — that  he 
hath  said  in  his  heart.  There  is  no  God. 

I  can  see  neither  necessity  nor  propriety  for  the  criticism 
which  Avould  change  the  translation  and  make  it  read.  The 
fool  liath  said  in  his  heart  [I  wish]  no  God.  To  say  in  the 
heart,  to  believe  with  the  heart,  to  love  with  the  heart,  indi- 
cate the  reality  of  the  internal  feeling  in  opposition  to  the 
external  profession.  The  doctrine  seems  then  to  be  simply 
this :  tlie  sinner — the  fool — every  sinner,  whatever  may  be  his 
verbal  profession,  does,  in  reality,  say  in  his  heart,  does  in  his 
soul  clierish  the  belief,  the  hope,  that  there  is  no  God.  And 
it  is  this  hope,  this  secret,  almost  unconscious  impression, 
which  emboldens  him  in  sin.  And  this  is  the  doctrine  that 
we  shall  endeavor  to  confirm,  to  illustrate,  to  enforce,  and  to 
apply  to-day. 

There  are  some  who  say  not  only  in  thought,  but  in  their 
words,  There  is  no  God.  There  are  some  who  can  open  their 
eyes  upon  this  fair  and  beautiful  world  which  God  has  made, 
can  enjoy  the  rich  blessings  of  liis  hand,  and  even  riot  upon 
his  bounties;  can  look  abroad  with  admiring  gaze  upon  the 
vastness  and  magnificence  of  this  great  creation,  beholding 
everywhere  the  traces  of  boundless  wisdom  and  benevolence  ; 
and  yet  can  turn  away  from  this  grand  and  glorious  exhibition 
with  their  heart  untouched  and  their  mind  unexpanded,  and 
say,  with  fearless  hardihood.  There  is  no  God.  They  see  every- 
where innumerable  traces  of  design,  but  deny  the  existence  of 
a  designer.  All  nature  teems  with  life  and  happiness  and  joy, 
yet  they  deny  the  existence  of  a  living  cause  of  all  this  happi- 
ness. All  without  is  beauty  to  the  eye,  and  music  to  the  ear ; 
and  all  within  is  admirably  adapted  to  receive  delight  from 
external  nature.  It  is  but  to  look  and  all  is  loveliness ;  it  is 
but  to  listen,  and  all  is  melody.  lie  enters  upon  a  world  which 
is  already  fitted  up  like  a  great  mansion  to  receive  an  expected 
guest,  wlio  is  likewise  exquisitely  adapted  to  occupy  the  man- 
sion prepared  for  his  residence.     Tlie  air  which  surrounds  hina 


122  THE   SIN   AND   FOLLY   OF   ATHEISM. 

is  just  fitted  to  expand  liis  lungs  and  to  communicate  the  prin- 
ciple of  life  and  heat  to  his  flowing  blood.  The  earth  on  which 
he  treads  is  just  suited  to  produce  food,  which  his  system  is 
just  suited  to  digest  and  to  carry  through  the  intricate  machi- 
nery of  tubes  and  canals  to  every  part  of  the  body,  giving 
flesh  to  the  muscles,  hardness  to  the  bones,  sensibility  to  the 
nerves,  and  incessant,  never-sleeping  energy  to  the  beating 
heart.  Yet  he  denies  the  existence  of  a  power  which  could 
create  this  mysterious  dwelling-place,  and  so  harmoniously 
adapt,  in  every  part,  the  living  inhabitant  to  his  earthly  habi- 
tation. There  are  those  whom  God  has  richly  endowed  with 
the  gifts  of  nature  and  the  advantages  of  fortune,  who  employ 
the  high  capacities  of  their  nature  against  the  author  of  these 
blessings,  who  reason  shrewdly  and  argue  gravely  to  prove 
there  is  no  God  ;  who  think,  by  the  ingenious  array  of  logical 
syllogisms,  to  overthrow  the  government  of  tlie  eternal  God, 
and,  by  a  pointed  sarcasm  or  an  ingenious  witticism,  hope  to 
cast  the  thunderer  from  his  throne.  But  he  that  sitteth  in  the 
heavens  laugheth  them  to  scorn ;  the  Almighty  holdeth  them 
in  perfect  derision. 

Now,  we  are  accustomed  to  look  on  the  atheist  as  a  monster 
of  iniquity,  and  few  of  us  can  feel  the  slightest  sympathy  with 
one  who  openly  denies  and  contemns  the  existence  and  attri- 
butes of  God.  But  it  is  one  of  the  strangest  marvels  of  the 
human  heart,  which  is  a  world  of  iniquity  at  best,  that  the 
very  sins  which  we  shudder  to  name  we  do  not  hesitate  to 
commit,  the  very  thoughts  and  feelings  which  we  would  not 
for  the  world  avow,  even  to  ourselves,  we  secretly  cherish  and 
openly  manifest  in  our  daily  conduct.  iVnd  thus  it  is  that 
while  there  are  very  few  avowed  atheists  in  the  world,  there 
are  many  real  ones ;  while  there  are  few  in  word  there  are 
many  in  deed.  And  the  doctrine  of  our  text,  if  we  do  not 
altogether  mistake  the  meaning,  is,  that  a  real,  deep-seated, 
practical  atheism  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  the  wickedness  of 
men.  Upon  the  authority  of  God's  word,  and  the  authority 
of  every  man's  conscience,  we  make  the  charge  this  day  against 
each  sinner,  that  he  is,  for  every  purpose  of  a  real  and  practi- 


Tllb:   SIN   AND   FOLLY   OF   ATHEISM.  123 

cal  belief,  an  atheist  before  God ;  and  we  pray  you  to  consider 
liow  fearful  is  your  condition  if,  instead  of  being  almost  Chris- 
tians, as  some  of  you  may  hope  you  are,  you  shall  be  found  to 
be  far  from  God  and  liope,  and  in  notliing- practically  different 
from  tlie  atheist  you  abhor — if  you  shall  be  found,  after  all 
your  self-gratulation  and  all  your  complacency,  to  be  so  far 
Irom  true  religion  that  you  have  not  received,  in 'honest  sin- 
cerity, the  very  first  elements  of  religious  belief  As  for  you 
who  plume  yourselves  upon  the  purity  and  elevation  of  a  philo- 
soi)liieal  deism,  while  you  avowedly  reject  the  revelation  of 
tlie  Bible,  what  is  your  condition,  if  it  shall  be  true  of  you  as 
well  as  others,  that  with  all  your  higli  pretensions  to  a  pure 
tlieology,  there  is  in  reality  and  truth  no  fear  of  God  before 
your  eyes,  no  belief  of  God  in  your  hearts,  no  service  of  God 
in  your  lives.  Is  there  any  value  in  words  witliout  ideas, 
in  jn'ofessions  without  practice,  in  opinions  which  have  no 
ijifiuence  upon  conduct  ? 

That  we  may  establish  the  doctrine  of  the  text,  and  bring 
home  upon  every  conscience  the  conviction  of  its  truth,  we 
only  ask  that  we  may  be  permitted  to  reason  on  this  as  on 
every  other  subject,  from  the  known  laws  .of  human  belief, 
and  the  observed  phenomena  of  human  conduct.  x\ppcaling 
fearlessly  to  every  individual  present  for  the  truth  of  our 
assertion,  we  say  that  the  general  course  of  human  conduct 
and  the  general  current  of  human  feeling  are  much  the  same 
as  if  there  were  no  creator  of  the  universe,  or  none  who  cared 
for  tlie  affairs  of  men.  It  is  a  proposition  too  plain  to  be 
doubted,  almost  too  obvious  to  be  advanced  in  argument,  and 
yet  too  often  forgotten  in  our  reflections,  that  all  the  conduct 
of  rational  beings  is  influenced  necessarily  by  their  real  opin- 
ions. You  cannot  introduce  a  new  truth  into  the  mind  without 
aftecting  the  feelings  or  influencing  the  conduct.  Let  us  take 
an  instance  which  is  not  our  own,  and  where  we  can  exercise 
our  unbiassed  judgment.  It  was  a  doctrine  of  the  Epicureans 
that  the  gods  existed,  but  that  they  dwelt  apart,  in  great  indo- 
lence, regardless  of  the  interests  of  this  lower  world.  Xow, 
suppose  that  a  new  idea  could  be  added  to  their  views  of  truth, 


124  THE   SIN   AND   FOLLY   OF   ATHEISM. 

and  that  instead  of  a  god  afar  ofl",  reposing  in  motionless  dig- 
nity, there  had  been  brought  before  their  view  a  god  of  love, 
of  mercy,  of  active  benevolence,  ever  active  and  deeply  inter- 
ested in  the  aifairs  of  men.  Is  it  possible  that  these  new  ideas 
Bhould  really  be  received  and  adopted  by  the  mind  of  any  man 
without  at  all  affecting  his  feelings  or  his  conduct  ? 

Suppose  there  was  a  world  of  intelligent  and  active  beings, 
like  ourselves,  professing  the  same  social  feelings,  the  same 
ardent  passions,  the  same  mutual  interests,  the  same  mental 
and  physical  organization,  as  ourselves,  with  no  knowledge  of 
a  God.  We  can  readily  conceive,  that  there  would  exist 
among  them,  the  same  pursuits,  the  same  affections,  the  same 
play  of  social  sympathies,  the  same  gentle  and  the  same  terri- 
ble emotions — hatred  would  burn  as  fiercely,  love  would  glow 
as  warmly,  and  the  whole  machinery  of  human  society  would 
move  onward  as  it  does  Avith  us,  upheld  by  the  play  of  the 
natural  principles  implanted  within  us  to  counteract  and  regu- 
late each  other.  Law  would  punish  crime  and  public  interests 
would  form  a  public  opinion  to  control  the  intercourse  of  life. 
The  more  and  less  amiable,  the  more  and  less  resj^ectable 
would  form,  as  they  do  with  us,  divisions  of  their  society. 
Now,  suppose  that  the  knowledge  and  real  belief  of  a  holy 
and  Almighty  God  were  introduced  among  the  inhabitants  of 
this  w^orld — would  it  have  no  influence  upon  their  feelings  and 
their  conduct?  Would  it  not  become  one  element,  and  a 
mighty  one  indeed,  of  all  their  actions  ?  Would  it  be  possi- 
ble to  introduce  into  the  minds  of  intelligent  beings  a  set  of 
ideas  entirel}^  diflerent  from  all  they  possessed  before — ideas 
relating  to  objects  the  most  important  to  their  interests,  tlie 
most  elevating  in  their  nature,  addressed  to  their  fears  and  to 
their  hopes,  a])pealing  to  all  their  strongest  emotions,  involv- 
ing their  whole  happiness  for  time  and  for  eternity — without 
producing  any  corresponding  change  in  their  feelings  and  con- 
duct ?  The  very  supposition  is  absurd.  And  why  is  not  this 
corresponding  effect  produced  upon  us  ?  Why  do  we  live  and 
act  and  feel  just  as  if  there  were  no  God  in  the  universe,  or  as 
if  the  knowledoje  of  his  existence  were  concealed  from  us  ? 


THE   SIN   AND   FOLLY   OF  ATHEISM.  125 

There  -would  be  iiotliing  necessary,  to  change  tlie  whole  face 
of  liuman  society  and  the  whole  current  of  liuman  affairs,  but 
to  bring  down  upon  every  human  bosom  tlie  deep  conviction 
of  the  existence  of  God  and  a  true  conception  of  his  awful  at- 
tributes. Could  I  bring  home  to  your  minds  this  day  the  pres- 
ence of  the  Holy  One  of  Israel,  his  awful  majesty,  his  infinite 
purity,  his  all-embracing  greatness,  the  fierceness  of  his  hot 
displeasure  against  sin,  the  keenness  of  his  searching  glance, 
those  eyes  which  like  a  flaming  fire  pass  to  and  fro  through 
the  earth,  penetrating  the  hypocrite's  disguise,  detecting  the 
formalist's  heartlessness,  and  gazing  with  clear  and  unimpeded 
vision  on  the  dark  pollutions  of  the  sinner's  bosom — could  I 
lift  the  veil  which  separates  the  seen  from  the  unseen,  and 
show  you  that  majestic  presence  which  fills  this  house,  en- 
circles this  assembly,  pervades  each  bosom,  lays  bare  each 
thought  and  purpose — would  it  not  bring  down  each  proud 
imagination,  subdue  each  rebellious  thought,  and  bring  the 
mastery  of  a  deep  and  breathless  reverence  to  bear  on  every 
emotion  and  feeling  ?  But  I  see  a  hand  you  cannot  see.  I 
hear  a  voice  you  cannot  hear.  And  it  is  because,  having 
eyes,  you  see  not,  having  ears,  you  hear  not,  understand  not, 
believe  not,  that  you  shall  die  in  your  sins,  O  sinner !  and 
where  God  and  Christ  are  you  can  never  come. 

Let  us  take  a  few  cases  out  of  many  which  present  them- 
selves to  our  view  upon  the  surface  of  every-day  society,  and 
see  whether  we  may  not  recognize  the  same  fundamental 
atheism  which  is  charged  by  the  text  against  all  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  Adam.  Let  us  pass  through  human  society,  in 
all  its  orders  and  gradations,  and  notice  the  operations  of  our 
common  nature  in  each,  from  him  who  grovels  in  its  lowest 
state,  to  him  who  shines  the  wonder  and  the  envy  of  thousands 
upon  its  highest  pinnacle.  Let  us  visit  the  abodes  of  wretched- 
ness and  crime,  where  the  victims  of  justice,  the  outcasts  of 
society  are  reserved  for  long  confinement  or  for  speedy  pun- 
ishment. There  lies  the  chained  murderer.  He  was  a  man  of 
blood,  fierce  and  fiery  passions  liave  burnt  deep  upon  his  face 
the  marks  of  crime.     His  last  crime  was  perhaps  his  greatest,' 


120  THE   SIX  AND   FOLLY   OP   ATHEISM. 

and  deep  remorse  now  overclouds  his  brow,  while  savage  and 
malignant  passions  send  forth  gleams  of  more  than  anger  from 
his  stern  eye.  When  he  whetted  the  knife  for  his  unsuspect- 
ing victim,  when  he  tried  its  temper  sportively  amidst  liis 
hardened  comrades,  when  he  spoke  of  blood,  of  human  l)lootl, 
and  his  eye  flashed  wildly  at  the  thought  of  his  sweet  re- 
venge, when  he  approached  with  slow  and  stealthy  pace  to  the 
appointed  spot,  and  crouched  in  breathless  silence  to  leap  upon 
his  i^rey,  when  his  dagger  gleamed  in  the  twilight  and  met  a 
brother's  heart — did  he  then  believe  that  there  is  a  God,  who 
ruleth  in  the  heavens  and  heareth  the  voice  of  blood  when  it 
crieth  from  the  ground  ?  One  believing  apprehension  of  his 
existence,  his  greatness,  and  his  presence,  Avould  have  quelled 
his  angry  passion,  the  upraised  dagger  would  have  fallen 
harmless  at  his  side,  and  the  man  of  blood,  rebuked  by  the 
majesty  of  the  Almighty,  would  have  stood  abashed  and  hum- 
bled in  his  sight. 

Let  us  rise  one  grade  in  tbe  scale  of  moral  being,  and  be- 
hold the  drunkard  and  the  gambler — men  who  would  shudder 
at  the  crime  of  murder  and  spurn  the  charge  of  atheism  as  a 
calumny.  Is  it  possible  for  any  man  who  Avitnesses  their  mid- 
night revels,  their  reckless  disregard  of  all  the  warnings  of 
conscience,  their  horrid  desecration  of  the  tenderest  and  most 
sacred  ties,  their  violation  of  the  most  solemn  duties  and  in- 
human trampling  under  feet  the  most  binding  obligations — 
is  it  possible  to  believe,  that  the  mind  which  is  the  dwelliiig- 
place  of  such  desperate  passions,  and  the  perpetrator  of  such 
liorrid  crimes,  does  at  the  very  moment  entertain  the  strong 
belief,  that  there  is  a  God  Avho  beholds  and  will  reward  ? 

Did  he,  who  won  from  the  infatuated  husband  the  last  mite 
which  remained  to  supply  the  wants  of  a  dying  wife  and  lier 
perishing  children  ;  did  he,  who  to  gratify  his  lust  for  gaming, 
reduced  his  family  to  beggary  and  want ;  did  he,  who  gave  him- 
self to  be  a  slave  to  beastly  drunkenness,  destroying  his  own 
rational  powers  and  involving  an  innocent  family  in  his  dis- 
grace and  ruin ;  did  he,  who  laid  his  snares  for  the  young  and 
unsuspecting  and  allured  them  onward  in  the  same  career  v>ith 


THE   SI}T   AND   FOLLY  OF   ATHEISM.  127 

himself  to  the  same  hopeless  destruction — did  any  of  these  be- 
lieve, ill  their  inmost  souls,  that  there  is  a  God,  who  will  take 
vengeance  on  iniquity  and  sin,  who  will  hear  the  cries  of  the 
distressed  and  afilictcd,  and  will  visit  on  every  sinner,  with 
tenfold  fury,  the  recompense  due  to  his  transgressions?  Could 
they  delight  in  the  sin  which  they  knew  was  to  be  so  speedily 
punished  ?  Could  they  roll,  as  a  sweet  morsel  under  their 
lips,  what  they  knew  would  turn  to  gall  and  wormwood  and 
deadly  poison  in  the  system?  No,  they  have  said  in  their 
hearts,  There  is  no  God.  They  have  said,  Who  is  the  Lord,  that 
we  should  regard  him  ?  They  have  said,  "  He  is  altogether 
such  a  one  as  ourselves."  "  He  doth  not  observe,  he  doth 
not  consider."  And  because  sentence  against  an  evil  work  is 
not  executed  speedily,  they  have  asked,  Where  is  the  promise 
of  his  coming?  and  their  hearts  have  been  fully  set  within 
them  to  do  evih 

Even  among  those  whom  the  amiable  and  courtly  moralist 
is  most  disposed  to  treat  with  kindness  and  with  deference, 
who  move  in  the  walks  of  refined  and  elevated  society,  and 
by  the  gentleness  of  their  manners,  and  the  cheerfulness  of 
their  spirits,  cast  a  life  and  buoyancy  over  all  around  them  — 
may  there  not  be  found,  with  all  their  amiable  traits,  a  care- 
lessness of  God,  an  indiflerence  to  his  favor,  which  carries 
home  upon  them  too  the  charge  of  atheism  in  the  sight  of 
God.  Behold  the  young  man,  as  he  enters  uj^on  life,  panting 
for  distinction,  keen  in  his  pursuit  of  knowledge,  or  his  love 
of  pleasure.  The  bloom  of  health  is  upon  his  cheek,  the 
buoyancy  of  youth  is  in  his  spirits,  the  frank  and  unsuspect- 
ing confidence  of  youth  is  developed  in  all  his  movements. 
He  commends  himself  to  the  approbation  of  man,  for  he 
abounds  in  all  those  qualities  which  are  useful  and  agreeable 
in  human  society.  But  we  ask  if,  amidst  all  this  anxiety  and 
effort  to  commend  himself  to  man,  he  has  one  single  anxiety, 
makes  one  single  effort,  to  commend  himself  to  God  ?  Would 
his  conduct  be  at  all  different,  would  not  his  feelings  be  the 
same,  if  the  name  of  God  were  erased  from  his  memory,  and 
the  notion  of  God  blotted  out  from  his  understanding,  as  llie 


128  THE   SIN  AND  FOLLY  OF  ATHEISM. 

thought  of  God  undoubtedly  is  from  the  whole  current  of  liis 
reflections  ? 

We  know  not  a  more  engaging  spectacle  than  that  alluded 
to  before,  unless  it  may  be  that  of  one  who  has  just  passed 
the  tempestuous  season  of  his  youth  and  escaped  the  ship- 
wreck of  the  passions,  who  retains  all  the  ardor  of  youth 
without  its  violence,  all  the  sensibility  of  passion  without  its 
wild  excesses,  whose  feelings  have  been  regulated  by  experi- 
ence and  not  destroyed,  who  has  mellowed  into  ripeness  with- 
out losing  the  freshness  and  fragrance  of  his  first  young  eino- 
tions.  Now,  we  care  not  how  highly  you  exalt  such  a  char- 
acter as  this,  and  cast  around  him  the  dazzling  drapery  of  a 
thousand  virtues  which  exist  only  in  the  imagination  of  his 
warm  admirers — we  are  willing  to  admit  the  truth  of  all  your 
fancy  dreams ;  nay,  so  satisfied  do  we  feel  of  the  perfect  cer- 
tainty of  our  position,  we  would  lend  our  feeble  aid,  if  neces- 
Bary,  to  fill  up  the  outline  your  fancy  has  already  sketched. 
Let  his  bosom  be  the  home  of  the  gentlest  and  loftiest  emo- 
tions, and  over  all  his  intercourse  with  men  let  there  be  dif- 
fused the  charm  of  a  winning  gracefulness  which,  flowing  un- 
studied from  the  heart,  reaches  the  hearts  of  all,  and  gathers 
to  itself  a  still  higher  tribute  than  that  of  admiration,  even 
the  unbought  affections  of  all  around  him — the  purest  of 
patriots,  the  firmest  and  truest  of  friends,  the  tenderest  of 
parents,  the  kindest  among  all  his  acquaintance.  Let  him 
unite,  in  his  single  person,  all  those  public  and  private  excel- 
lencies which  men  admire  and  exhibit  to  the  world — the  fairest 
specimen  that  has  yet  been  seen  of  our  fallen  nature.  Yet 
against  this  man  so  endowed  by  nature,  so  improved  by  edu- 
cation, so  enthroned  in  the  hearts  of  those  around  him,  so  en- 
circled with  the  halo  of  those  virtues  which  men  admire,  do 
we  bring  the  same  sweeping  charge,  as  against  others,  of  utter 
alienation  from  God,  and  a  practical  renunciation  of  his  ex- 
istence and  his  government.  Nor  can  we  at  all  perceive  how, 
if  the  whole  population  of  our  globe  were  composed  of  such 
individuals,  it  would  at  all  affect  the  truth  of  our  position. 
The  possession  of  certain  relative  and  social  feelings  toward 


THE   SIN   AND  FOLLY   OF   ATHEISM.  129 

men,  which  we  admit,  does  not  certainly  prove  the  existence 
of  certain  other  feelings  toward  God. 

The  inhabitants  of  a  State  might  cast  off  the  authority  of 
our  Union,  or  a  distant  province  might  reject  the  dominion  of 
an  emperor,  and  yet,  amidst  the  very  leaders  of  this  rebellion, 
there  might  be  exercised  all  those  relative  and  social  feelings 
to  which  we  have  alluded.  There  might  be  a  chivalry  which 
defied  all  danger,  an  honor  that  was  never  tarnished,  a  patience 
that  endured  every  privation  and  labor  and  suffering,  a  high 
enthusiasm  which  endeared  to  all  the  inhabitants  of  their 
province  and  their  state;  and  yet  toward  the  government 
against  which  they  have  rebelled  there  is  certainly  no  feeling 
of  regard,  no  recognition  of  its  authority.  And  even  so  may 
there  be  all  these  various  exhibitions  of  what  is  amiable  and 
agreeable  and  admirable  among  men,  while  there  is  no  recog- 
nition of  God  whatever. 

I  could  point  you  to  the  metropolis  of  a  polished  nation 
w^here  education  and  fashion  have  combined  to  cast  over 
female  society  a  vivacity,  a  brilliancy,  and  a  charm,  not  else- 
where known ;  and  yet  in  the  most  polished  circles  of  that 
gay  metropolis  the  doctrines  of  atheism  are  taught  by  female 
lips,  and  the  astonished  foreigner  is  told  that  he  is  still  in  the 
shackles  of  priestly  domination,  and  that  his  reverence  for 
Deity  is  the  last  relic  of  an  exploded  superstition.  Now-  we 
ask  you  if  all  the  vivacity  of  her  conversation,  all  the  grace- 
fulness of  her  movements,  all  the  bright  intelligence  of  her 
sparkling  eye,  wdll  at  all  disprove  the  assertion  of  her  lips  ? 
And  does  she  not  stand  before  you  by  her  own  mouth,  a  self- 
convicted  atheist  ?  But  which  carries  with  it  the  greatest 
weight — the  conduct,  or  the  language  ?  And  those  two  gay 
and  thoughtless  devotees  of  fashion  and  of  pleasure,  who 
circle  side  by  side  in  the  maze  of  the  dance,  and  dwell,  with 
wrapt  and  senseless  admiration  on  the  splendors  of  the  theatre, 
and,  in  every  other  way  that  human  folly  has  devised,  endeavor 
to  waste  together  the  day  of  their  probation — we  say  not, 
that  there  is  no  difference  between  them,  but  we  say  that  it 
is  rather  nominal  than  real,  that  it  is  more  in  word  than  in 
6* 


130  THE   SIN   AND   FOLLY   OF   ATHEISM. 

reality :  and  we  appeal  to  your  own  sober  reason  to  decide, 
whether,  if  the  difference  be  important,  it  be  not  all  in  favor 
of  that  one  who,  denying  altogether  the  Divine  existence, 
treats  the  whole  as  a  delusion,  and  against  her  who  profess- 
ing to  believe  it,  as  the  most  solemn  and  important  truth  which 
has  ever  burst  upon  the  human  mind  to  enlighten  and  exalt 
it,  yet  treats  it  all  as  the  idlest  superstition,  gives  it  no  place 
in  her  thoughts,  no  hold  on  her  affections,  no  influence  on  her 
conduct,  and  thus  adds  to  the  folly  of  atheism,  and  the  folly 
of  worldliness,  the  guilt  of  hypocrisy. 

And  here  we  would  turn  aside  for  a  moment  to  notice  that 
charge  which  is  so  often  brought  against  the  professors  of 
Christianity — that  they  are  the  exclusive  hypocrites  of  the 
day,  and  that,  though  there  may  be  something  of  virtue  in  the 
church,  in  it  especially  is  found  an  abounding  vice,  which,  by 
its  meanness,  casts  all  others  in  the  shade.  Xow  to  all  that 
infidels  or  worldly  men  may  say  against  the  inconsistency  of 
many  professing  Christians,  we  yield  at  once  our  most  hearty 
and  unqualified  assent,  and  we  say  let  hypocrisy  die  the  death, 
whether  it  be  transfixed  by  the  brandished  spear  of  truth,  or 
l^erish  under  the  poisoned  arrows  of  a  malignant  infidel.  And 
to  the  infidelity  of  our  own  and  other  times  we  must  yield 
this  passing  homage,  that  its  sarcasm  and  its  petulance  have 
often  aided  the  cause  of  truth  and  helped  to  weed  out  many 
errors  in  doctrine  and  in  practice,  that  it  may  aspire  to  this 
dignity  in  common  with  other  beasts  of  prey,  that  it  lives  by 
feeding  on  vermin  more  noxious  than  itself  But  not  only 
would  we  root  out  hypocrisy  from  the  church,  we  would  also 
banish  it,  if  possible,  from  the  world.  And  therefore  would 
we  allude  to  a  species  of  hypocrisy  universally  prevalent 
among  worldly  men,  which,  to  the  eye  of  impartial  observa- 
tion, wears  a  still  more  revolting  aspect  than  any  that  is 
witnessed  among  professed  Christians.  There  are  those  who 
deride  the  revelation  of  God's  truth  as  a  feeble  and  idle  fabri- 
cation, and  view  the  believers  in  its  doctrines  as  ignorant  and 
misguided  zealots.  They  assume  the  air  of  superior  wisdom, 
and  assert  the  possession  of  a  higher,  purer,  and  more  phiio- 


THE   SIN   AND   FOLLY   OF  ATHEISM.  131 

soi^liical  tlieology.  To  them  the  book  of  nature  is  transparent 
on  every  page.  All  the  mystery  which  is  thrown  over  the 
dealings  and  character  of  the  universal  Father  is  dissipated  by 
that  clearer  light  which  conies  to  them  from  the  skies,  and 
chases  away  from  their  minds  the  darkness  and  the  mists  of  a 
gloomy  superstition.  However  it  may  be  with  others,  they, 
at  least,  are  privileged  to  walk  in  the  clear  sunshine,  to  breatlie 
the  pure  air  of  a  more  exalted  region,  to  expatiate  in  the  free- 
ness  of  their  untrammelled  spirits  over  every  field  of  large  and 
elevating  thought. 

Now,  to  such  we  would  only  say,  you  who  have  so  mucli 
more  Avorthy  and  exalted  views  of  the  Creator's  character 
should  certainly  be,  of  all  men,  the  most  profound  in  your 
reverence,  the  most  ardent  in  your  aftection,  the  most  faithful 
in  your  obedience,  the  most  unwearied  in  your  service,  the 
most  submissive  to  his  dispensations,  the  most  frequently 
engaged  in  holy  contemplation  of  his  character,  and  wrapt  in 
humble  and  delightful  admiration  of  his  glorious  perfections. 
To  you  the  motives  are  still  stronger  than  to  any  other  for 
rising  superior  to  all  sensual  pleasures,  and  all  selfish  interests, 
and,  borne  upward  as  you  are  on  stronger  pinions,  you  well 
might  soar  to  higher  flights  of  virtuous  exertion.  But,  alas, 
for  the  philosophy  of  Deism,  the  very  mention  of  what  you 
should  be  is  the  bitterest  of  sarcasms  upon  what  you  are. 
The  very  language  of  devotion  is  uidmown  in  your  vocabu- 
lary, the  habit  of  meditation  upon  God  is  the  farthest  of  all 
others  from  your  practice.  Among  all  your  other  busy  and 
restless  thoughts,  the  thought  of  God  seldom  ever  mingles,  or, 
if  it  come  at  all,  is  hastily  expelled  as  an  unwelcome  intruder. 
The  name  of  God  seldom  falls  from  your  lips ;  when  it  does,  it 
is  only  that  its  sacredness  may  be  profaned  by  some  horrid 
imprecation,  or  some  trivial  oath.  When,  in  the  society  of 
some  Christian  friends,  the  name  of  God  is  mentioned  witli 
reverence,  and  his  praises  meekly  spoken,  does  it  not  sound  in 
your  ears  like  the  strange  language  of  some  unknown  land  ? 
And  w^ould  it  not  appear  the  dreariest  of  all  possible  conditions 
to  be  confined  for  life  to  society  such  as  this,  with  which  you 


132  THE   SIN  AND  FOLLY  OF  ATHEISM. 

have  no  commuuity  of  thought  or  sympathy  of  feeling?  And 
now  we  ask  you  whether,  in  the  whole  universe  of  God,  there 
can  possibly  be  found  a  more  palpable  and  shameful  contra- 
diction than  t]iat  which  is  exhibited  in  the  conduct  of  the  man 
who  has  so  much  regard  for  God  in  words  and  so  little  in 
reality,  who  j^rofesses  so  much  love  and  admiration  for  a  being 
of  whom  he  seldom  or  never  thinks,  who  acknowledges  a  bene- 
factor and  yet  feels  no  gratitude,  has  a  father  and  exhibits  no 
filial  affection,  a  sovereign  and  shows  no  obedience,  who  boasts 
of  all  the  light  of  day  and  yet  has  all  the  chilliness  of  night, 
and  the  beautiful  display  of  all  his  boasted  and  philosophical 
religion  is  only  the  frost-work  which  has  grown  up  amid  the 
coldness  of  his  own  abstracted  speculations,  and  disappears 
before  the  heat  of  passion,  or  is  trampled  under  foot  in  the 
bustle  and  haste  of  worldly  business,  and  the  conflict  of  worldly 
interests  ? 

And  now,  having  endeavored  to  illustrate  and  to  confirm, 
by  various  examples,  the  doctrine  of  our  text,  we  would  direct 
your  attention  to  one  important  deduction  that  may  be  drawn 
from  the  whole,  namely,  the  importance  and  reasonableness  of 
the  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith.  It  has  been  for  centuries 
the  habit  of  superficial  reasoners  to  deride  the  doctrine  of 
justification  by  faith,  and  to  dwell,  even  to  nauseousness,  on  the 
indiiference  of  human  opinions,  and  the  absurdity  of  judging 
man  by  his  internal  principles  instead  of  his  outward  conduct. 
Now  in  opposition  to  all  such  declarations,  we  might  plead, 
did  we  need  aid  of  authority  to  sustain  us,  the  opinion  of  the 
most  acute  pliilosopher  and  most  eloquent  historian  of  our  age 
— a  man  who  stood  alike  pre-eminent  at  the  bar,  in  the  senate, 
and  in  the  literary  circles  of  Great  Britain — the  late  accom- 
plished Sir  James  Mackintosh.  Speaking  of  the  doctrine  of 
justification  by  faith,  as  avowed  and  defended  by  Luther,  and 
especially  his  doctrine  '■  that  men  are  not  made  righteous  by 
performing  actions  externally  good,  but  must  have  righteous 
principles  in  the  first  place,  and  then  they  will  not  fail  to 
perform  virtuous  actions,"  he  calls  it  "  the  principle  which  is 
the  basis  of  all  ethical  judgment,  by  the  2^0 wer  of  which  he 


THE   SIN  AND   FOLLY   OF  ATIIEISiL  133 

Struck  a  mortal  blow  at  superstition"— a  proposition  equally- 
certain  and  sublime — the  basis  of  all  pure  ethics — the  cement 
of  the  eternal  alliance  between  morality  and  religion.  It  is 
founded,  indeed,  on  a  profound  and  thorough  knowledge  of 
the  human  heart,  and  the  secret  springs  of  human  actions. 

As  a  man  thinketh  in  his  heart  so  is  he.  His  character  is 
always  decided  by  his  prevailing  views  and  opinions.  Place 
before  you  the  finest  possible  specimen  of  human  nature,  a 
man  the  most  energetic  in  his  conduct,  the  most  vivid  in  his 
emotions,  and  deprive  him  one  by  one  of  all  his  opinions ;  let 
him  cease  to  believe  that  there  is  kindness  in  the  smile  which 
beams  upon  him  from  the  countenance  of  his  friend,  that  there 
is  heat  in  the  fire  upon  his  hearth,  that  there  is  nourishment 
in  the  food  upon  his  table,  and  do  you  not  perceive  that  as 
you  strip  him  gradually  of  all  his  opinions  and  belief,  you  like- 
wise divest  him  of  all  his  feelings  and  principles  of  action,  till 
he  stands  at  last  before  you  a  statue,  mute,  motionless,  unfeel- 
ing, with  all  the  organs  of  speech,  and  all  the  capacities  for 
vigorous  action  and  strong  emotion,  but  dormant  now  and 
undeveloped  for  want  of  their  natural  and  appropriate  stimuli. 
Now,  suppose  you  wished  to  arouse  this  breathing  statue  from 
the  listless  apathy  into  which  he  had  sunk,  would  you  not  just 
seek  to  open  the  only  avenue  by  which  feeling  could  reach  the 
heart,  and  which  had  just  been  closed — the  avenue  of  an 
assured  belief  of  all  the  truths  which  he  had  doubted?  And 
as  each  new  truth  flashed  home  upon  his  mind,  would  you  not 
expect  to  see  the  glow  of  a  new  feeling  on  his  cheek,  and  the 
movement  of  a  new  impulse  on  his  whole  frame,  and  would 
not  this  harp  of  a  thousand  strings  vibrate  harmoniously  to 
every  ray  of  light  that  beamed  in  upon  it  from  without,  as  did 
that  fabled  harp  of  old  which,  though  untouclied  by  human 
hands,  sent  back  the  softest  music  when  touched  by  the  first 
beams  of  the  rising  sun?  If  then  a  change  must  pass  upon  the 
human  heart  before  we  can  be  saved,  if  we  be  altogether  dead 
in  sins  as  the  Bible  represents  us,  if  we  need  the  introduction 
of  some  new  affections  and  dispositions  into  our  characters,  it 
must  be  accomplished  through  the  introduction  of  some  new 


134  THE   SIN   AND   FOLLY  OF   ATHEISM. 

truth,  and  this  truth  can  neither  enter  into  the  mind  or  influence 
the  feelings  or  character  or  conduct  without  being  beUeved. 

There  are  two  problems  to  be  solved,  and  only  two,  with 
respect  to  man's  salvation.  First,  to  make  it  consistent  witli 
God's  law.  And  this  has  been  done  by  the  substitution  and 
death  of  the  Saviour.  The  second,  to  make  it  consistent  with 
man's  character,  and  this  can  only  be  solved  as  it  is  done  in 
the  Bible.  He  can  only  be  sanctified  by  faith  or  an  honest 
belief  of  the  truth,  unless  indeed  you  can  find  some  other  way 
of  promoting  moral  purity  and  worth  than  through  the  influ- 
ence of  moral  truth,  or  some  way  for  this  truth  to  operate 
without  being  received  into  the  mind  and  cordially  believed. 
If  faith  were  indeed  as  some  conceive,  a  mere  set  of  notions, 
havinsj  no  connection  with  feelino-  or  action — did  the  Bible 
connect  the  salvation  of  man  with  the  belief  of  certain  dogmas 
which  have  no  relation  to  his  happiness  or  virtue,  were  not 
faith  an  active,  living,  practical  principle  that  worketh  by  love 
and  purifieth  the  heart — then  it  would  all  be  absurd  enough. 
But  since  the  connection  is  obvious  and  indissoluble  between 
the  belief  of  men  and  their  whole  character ;  since  no  man 
acts  without  an  object,  which  he  believes  to  have  both  exist- 
ence and  value,  nor  feels  but  in  view  of  something  which  he 
believes  deserves  the  exercise  of  feeling,  we  conceive  that  the 
doctrine  of  justification  by  faith  is  no  absurdity  in  morals,  but 
is  only  the  particular  application  of  a  principle  which  is  uni- 
versally true.  Indeed,  the  very  conception  of  a  religion  which 
did  not  require  the  exercise  of  faith  would  be  a  contradiction 
in  terms.  It  would  be  a  system  of  belief  which  was  not 
believed,  a  system  of  truths  not  received  as  true. 

But  in  vain  does  the  fool  say,  that  there  is  no  God.  He  is 
contradicted  by  all  without  and  all  within  him,  by  the  whole 
animated  and  the  whole  inanimate  creation.  Does  he  com- 
mune with  his  own  heart  upon  his  bed,  and  in  the  stillness 
and  solitude  of  night  does  he  seek  to  hear  the  still  soft  voice 
of  conscience?  From  his  inmost  spirit  there  comes  a  voice 
which  neither  hesitates  nor  doubts,  but  says  with  undoubting 
assurance  that  there  is  a  God.     Does  he  ask  of  the  wise  and 


THE   SIN   AND   FOLLY   OF   ATIIEIS^f.  135 

good  of  every  age  ?  With  united  voice  they  testify  to  the 
existence  of  a  God.  Does  he  seek  to  know  the  universal 
opinion  of  mankind  ?  From  the  East  and  from  the  West, 
from  the  North  and  from  the  South,  from  the  burning  Equator 
to  the  frozen  Poles,  from  every  savage  tribe  and  every  nation 
of  civilized  and  enlightened  men,  from  eveiy  people  and  kin- 
dred under  heaven  there  comes  one  long  and  loud  response, 
like  the  voice  of  many  waters,  and  the  sound  of  mighty  thun- 
der, saying,  There  is  a  God  that  ruleth  in  the  heavens.  Does 
he  turn  to  the  works  of  nature  and  question  them  ?  Nature, 
through  all  her  provinces  has  but  one  answer.  The  lowly 
valley  with  its  verdant  covering  and  its  garniture  of  flowers 
as  plainly  declares  his  existence  and  his  greatness  as  the 
mountain  which  lifts  its  head  on  high  with  its  mighty  forests 
waving  for  centuries  untouched  upon  its  summit.  It  is  mur- 
mured by  the  rivulet,  it  is  whispered  in  the  breeze,  it  is  thun- 
dered on  the  storm,  and  when  Ocean  lifts  up  his  voice  on  high, 
and  wave  calleth  unto  wave,  the  roar  of  his  ever-dashing  waters 
is  only  the  deep  and  majestic  chorus  to  that  universal  hymn 
of  praise  which  swells  from  land  and  sea,  from  hill  and  valley, 
from  the  untrodden  desert  and  the  cultivated  field,  by  day  and 
by  night,  unceasingly,  to  the  Omnipotent  Creator. 

And  do  not  the  heavens  declare  his  glory  and  the  firmament 
show  forth  his  handiwork  ?  Yes,  there  is  a  voice  Avhich  comes 
to  man  from  those  far  distant  worlds,  and  they  tell  him  that 
the  energy  of  Almighty  power  has  not  been  exhausted  on  this 
single  world,  and  that  wherever  they  have  travelled,  yet  in  the 
greatness  of  their  way,  as  they  have  swept  by  other  planets 
and  other  systems  in  their  dizzy  flight,  they  have  ever  been 
guided  by  an  eye  that  slumbereth  not,  and  upheld  by  an  arm 
that  is  never  wearied,  and  that  in  those  regions  of  immeasura- 
ble space  which  no  eye  of  man  has  ever  reached  and  no  tele- 
scope of  man  has  ever  brought  within  the  field  of  human  vision — 
there  are  the  footsteps  of  the  Creator  visible,  and  that  over  the 
boundlessness  of  this  unseen  and  illimitable  empire  has  he 
poured  forth  with  unsparing  hand  the  riches  of  a  goodness 
which  knows  no  limit,  and  manifested  the  greatness  of  a  power 


136  TnE   SIX  Ai^D   FOLLY   OF  ATHEISM. 

which  is  infinite  and  inexhaustible.  But  regardless  of  all  this 
concurring  testimony  of  nature,  amidst  this  joyful  symphony 
of  all  creation,  the  voice  of  the  atheist  is  heard,  in  peevish  and 
querulous  accents,  murmuring  forth  :  Xo,  there  is  no  God.  It 
is  not  surprising  then  that  he  who  denies  and  contemns  the 
existence  and  the  attributes  of  God  should  find  little  sympathy 
among  the  rest  of  mankind,  that  he  is  regarded  with  unmin- 
gled  abhorrence,  and  considered  as  one  of  those  rare  and  stu- 
pendous monsters  of  iniquity  whom  we  seldom  see,  whose  very 
existence,  we  are  often  prone,  for  the  honor  of  our  nature,  to 
deny. 

Now  we  have  not  the  slightest  wish  to  lessen  in  your  minds 
this  natural  abhorrence  for  the  jDrinciples  and  character  of  the 
speculative  atheist.  Nay,  believing  as  we  do  that  it  is  both 
natural  and  just,  we  would  desire  to  see  it  increased  and  ren- 
dered permanent,  to  see  it  pass  from  a  mere  sentiment  to  a 
warm  emotion,  and  from  an  emotion  to  a  principle  of  action, 
extending  to  atheism  of  every  form,  whether  exhibited  by 
ourselves  or  others,  avowed  by  the  tongue  or  by  the  conduct, 
or  lingering  in  secret  concealment  in  the  recesses  of  the  heart. 


III. 

WHAT  WAS  FINISHED  IN  THE  DEATH  OF  CHRIST. 


John,  xix.  30. — "  He  said,  It  is  finished :  and  bowed  his  head,  and  gave  iip  the 
ghost."  (John,  iv.  34,  xvii.  4;  Luke,  xii.  50,  xviii.  31;  Acts,  xx.  24; 
2  Tim.  iv.  7.) 

How  much  of  solemn  and  toucliing  interest  is  often  contained 
in  this  brief  expression.  It  is  finished  !  We  stand  by  the  bed- 
side of  one  endeared  to  us  by  a  thousand  tender  recollections 
of  the  past,  and  doubly  endeared  by  tlie  sufi:erings  of  the  pres- 
ent, and  the  mournful  anticipations  of  the  future — a  child  of 
sorrows,  lingering  tlirougli  months  of  tedious  disease,  quietly, 
witli  lamblike  resignation,  enduring  the  visitations  of  a  father's 
liand;  and  when  death,  whose  slow  approach  we  have  long 
observed,  at  last  seizes  the  extremities,  and,  advancing  onward 
a  triumphant  foe,  storms  the  citadel  of  the  heart,  we  exclaim, 
with  a  melancholy  satisfaction,  It  is  finished!  The  conflict  is 
passed.  The  struggle  at  last  is  over.  The  suffering  spirit  is 
I'eleased,  and,  far  above  all  scenes  of  earthly  sorrow,  reposes 
in  tlie  presence  of  the  Lord. 

We  hear  of  the  death  of  some  benefactor  of  the  race,  dis- 
tinguished by  his  self-denying  labors,  his.  eloquent  appeals,  his 
patient  sufferings  for  the  benefit  of  man,  and  we  say,  It  is  fin- 
ished !  The  fatherless  have  lost  a  friend,  the  poor  a  protector, 
the  oppressed  an  advocate,  the  world  an  ornament.  He  is 
gone,  his  loss  is  irreparable,  and  hallowed  be  his  memory. 
But  his  virtues  shall  live  in  the  hearts  of  men,  and  his  blest 
example  be  fondly  treasured  up  as  a  model  to  admire  and  to 
imitate.  Some  man  of  ambition,  some  aspiring  politician  or 
successful  warrior,  passes  off  from  the  scene  which  he  had  long 


138  WHAT   Was  FINISHED 

filled  and  agitated ;  and  we  saj  again,  at  last,  It  is  finished  ! 
The  mighty  is  fallen ;  ambition  has  reached  its  goal.  In  the 
fall  tide  of  his  success  has  he  beenarrested ;  blasted  are  all  his 
hopes,  frustrated  his  schemes,  "  dimmed  his  bright  eye,  and 
curbed  his  high  career."  xVnd  thus  ever,  in  proportion  to  the 
tenderness  of  our  mutual  relations,  the  depth  of  his  sufferings, 
the  nobleness  of  his  nature,  the  largeness  of  his  plans,  and  tlie 
wonderfulness  of  his  achievements ;  as  he  has  excited  our  aifec- 
tion,  our  sympathy,  our  gratitude,  our  admiration  or  esteem, 
do  we  comprehend  the  full  meaning  of  that  expression.  It  is 
finished !  And  it  is  only  when  the  fond  heart  gathers  up  its 
recollections,  and  memory  recalls  the  traces  of  a  character  at 
once  so  tender  and  so  noble — all  that  he  was  to  ,us  and  to 
others,  to  our  country,  to  the  world,  to  the  past,  the  present, 
and  the  future — tliat  we  sink  beneath  the  weight  of  our  emo- 
tions ;  and  mournful  and  startling,  as  the  toll  of  midnight 
death-bell  in  pestilential  city,  is  the  sound,  It  is  finished  ! 

But  never  before  were  these  words  so  full  of  meaning  as  in 
the  mouth  of  the  crucified  Redeemer.  Never  was  friendship 
so  ardent  as  his  to  mankind.  JSTever  was  love  so  tender,  de- 
signs so  large,  accomplishment  so  glorious.  His  love  was  a 
brother's,  his  compassion  a  God's  ;  his  designs,  formed  in  eter- 
nity, embraced  two  worlds ;  his  victory  was  over  death  aud 
hell,  over  principalities  and  powers.  His  throne  is  exalted  fir 
above  the  heavens,  and  around  it  are  gathered  uncounted  mil- 
lions of  those  who  were  redeemed  by  his  love  out  of  every 
nation  and  kindred  under  the  whole  heavens.  We  have  said 
there  is  a  fulness  of  meaning  in  the  language  of  our  text  which 
is  found  nowhere  beside.  Do  you  doubt  it?  Behold  that 
meek  and  patient  sufferer  on  the  cross,  and  hear  him  say  with 
his  expiring  breath,  *' Father,  forgive  them,  they  know  not 
what  they  do."  Do  you  doubt  it?  The  blackening  heavens 
roll  onward  as  my  witness.  Do  you  doubt  it?  Tlie  bursting 
rocks  thunder  it  in  your  ears.  Do  you  doubt  it  ?  The  dead 
spring  from  their  graves  to  rebuke  your  incredulity,  and  the 
trembling  centurion  unconsciously  exclaims.  Truly  this  was  the 
Son  of  God.     Lot  us  then  contemplate  the  words  of  our  text 


IN   THE   DEATH   OF   OEJRIST.  130 

without  hoping  or  attempting  to  exliaust  their  full  meaning, 
and  inquire, 

What  was  then  jimshed ?     And  we  say, 

1st.  His  state  of  humiliation  and  suffering  was  finished. 

2d.  All  that  pro})liecy  had  predicted,  and  types  had  prefig- 
ured, and  hope  had  longed  for,  was  accomplished. 

3d.  The  glorious  work  he  had  come  to  do  was  completely 
fiiiislied. 

1st.  His  state  of  humiliation  and  suffering  was  finished.  If 
we  had  been  informed  that  a  messenger  should  visit  us  from 
heaven,  how  various  would  have  been  our  expectations.  How 
different  from  all  these  expectations  was  the  actual  condition 
of  our  Saviour.  He  took  no  angelic  form,  but  was  made  in 
fashion  like  a  man  ;  he  wore  no  robe  of  light,  but  was  wrapped 
in  swaddling  clothes,  and  laid  in  a  manger.  His  first  appear- 
ance w^as  not  in  the  world's  metropolis,  but  in  a  distant  and 
subjugated  province.  His  countrymen  were  a  despised  and  out- 
cast tribe.  Of  this  distant  province  a!id  this  outcast  tribe  lie 
cliose  not  the  most  conspicuous  city,  or  the  most  distinguished 
relatives.  His  native  town  was  one  of  the  obscurest  villages 
of  Judea,  his  relatives  came  of  the  humblest  among  the  people  : 
a  carpenter  his  reputed  father,  and  his  birthplace  a  stable. 
The  course  of  his  lite  corresponded  to  its  humble  commence- 
ment. He  was  a  man  of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with  grief, 
despised  and  rejected  of  men,  and  we  turned,  as  it  w^ere,  our 
faces  from  him. 

That  life  which  began  in  poverty  was  closed  in  ignominy 
by  a  death  that  was  as  agonizing  as  i^t  was  disgraceful,  the 
instrument  a  cross,  his  companions  two  thieves.  He  had  left 
the  throne  of  his  glory  and  come  down  on  an  errand  of  unut- 
terable love.  And  how  was  he  received  ?  AYas  he  greeted 
with  the  loud  welcomes  of  the  race  he  came  to  save  ?  Did  the 
grateful  multitudes  gather  around  him  to  catch  those  lessons 
of  wisdom,  and  to  hear  those  tones  of  grace  and  mercy  which 
fell  from  his  lips  ?  Tiiey  collected,  indeed,  often  around  1dm, 
at  one  time  to  entrap  him  in  his  words,  at  another  to  feed  on 
his  bounty,  or  to  be  healed  of  their  diseases.     And  even  when 


140  WHAT  WAS  FINISHED 

they  listened  to  Ms  teaching,  their  corrupt  and  sensual  hearts 
revolted  at  its  pure  and  exalted  spirituality.  Their  pride  re- 
belled against  his  just  rebukes,  their  hypocrisy  trembled  at  his 
keen  exposures,  and  now  they  exclaimed,  This  is  a  hard  say- 
ing, who  can  hear  it  ?  N^one.  Do  not  we  well  say,  thou  hast 
a  devil  and  art  mad?  Even  they  who  were  the  chosen  com- 
panions of  his  ministry,  whom  he  had  selected  from  the  world 
to  be  the  depositories  of  his  doctrine,  the  witnesses  of  his 
resurrection,  the  honored  heralds  of  his  great  salvation  to  a 
guilty  race,  how  slow  to  comprehend  the  sublime  truths  which 
he  revealed,  how  slow  to  believe  the  promises  he  gave. 

There  is  implanted  deep  in  human  nature  the  yearning  desire 
after  human  companionship  and  human  sympathy,  the  felt 
necessity  for  the  mutual  interchange  of  thoughts  and  feelings, 
for  hearts  that  swell  with  emotion  like  our  own,  and  minds 
that  can  comprehend  and  appreciate  our  character,  to  whom 
we  may  communicate  our  hopes  and  fears,  our  plans  of  useful- 
ness and  our  views  of  duty,  our  sober  reasonings  and  our  waking 
dreams.  Nor  can  we  conceive  a  condition  more  melancholy 
than  that  of  him  who,  elevated  too  far  above  those  around 
him  in  intellect  and  feeling,  seeks  in  vain  for  sympathy  among 
all  his  fellows,  and  linds  that  the  whole  cast  of  his  mind  and 
current  of  his  feelings  is  irreconcilnble  with  theirs.  That  his 
high  enthusiasm  is,  with  them,  another  name  for  madness,  his 
lofty  conscientiousness  is  stigmatized  as  hypocrisy,  his  aspira- 
tions after  nobler  objects  and  high  attainments  denounced  as 
ambition.  And  when  from  the  uncongenial  society  around 
him  he  retreats  into  the  sanctuary  of  his  own  bosom,  and  in 
the  privacy  of  his  retirement  holds  converse  with  God  and 
nature  and  his  OAvn  chastened  soul,  he  is  considered  as  one 
possessed  with  an  anti-social  and  gloomy  spirit. 

Now  the  Saviour  possessed  in  all  their  energy  the  innocent 
emotions  of  our  nature,  and  especially  those  most  warmly  cher- 
ished by  lofty  and  generous  minds.  With  him  to  feel  was  to 
communicate,  to  know  was  to  teach,  to  mingle  with  men  was 
to  go  forth  in  all  the  ardor  of  his  emotions,  approving  what 
was  right,  condemning  what  was  wrong.     When  he  looked 


IN   THE   DEATH  OF   CHRIST.  141 

upon  the  young  man  who  had  kej^t  the  conimandraents,  he 
loved  him.  "VYlien  he  belield  the  hypocrisies  of  the  Pharisees 
he  groaned  with  anguish,  and  denounced  their  wickedness  in 
terms  expressive  of  the  deepest  detestation.  To  one  thus  con- 
stituted, in  whom  all  that  is  lovely  and  noble  produced  a 
thrilling  delight,  and  all  that  is  base  and  low  excited  a  loathing 
inexpressible,  how  painful  must  it  have  been  to  mingle,  even, 
wdth  the  best  and  purest  of  mankind.  He  had  mingled  in  the 
society  of  heaven,  he  had  lain  in  the  bosom  of  his  Father 
through  untold  generations,  he  had  rejoiced  in  the  glories  of 
that  upper  world,  in  that  mysterious  and  unfathomable  inter- 
course between  the  Father  and  the  Son;  and  now,  a  voluntary 
exile  from  the  court  of  heaven,  a  voluntary  participant  of  an 
inferior  nature,  he  was  to  mingle  with  those  whose  every  feel- 
ing was  fjistened  to  the  dust,  to  pity  the  weakness  and  blindness 
and  ignorance  and  vanity  of  the  best,  to  endure  the  hypocrisy 
and  fraud  and  angry  violence  of  the  w^orst.  How  did  his  holy 
soul  groan  beneath  the  weight  of  this  affliction  ?  And  how 
often  did  his  feelings  burst  forth  in  earnest  expostulation  ?  To 
his  npostles  often  did  he  complain  of  their  stupidity  and  blind- 
ness. At  one  time  he  rebukes  their  unbelief:  "  Oh,  fools,  and 
slow  of  heart  to  believe  all  that  the  prophets  have  spoken;" 
"Are  ye  so  also  without  understanding;  do  ye  not  know, 
neither  perceive  ?"  And  again,  "  Oh,  ye  of  little  faith,  how 
long  shall  I  be  with  you;  how  long  shall  I  endure  ?" 

But  what  language  shall  express  the  deep  emotions  of  holy 
indignation  w^hich  he  felt  when  witnessing  the  cool  and  artful 
hypocrisy  of  the  priests  and  elders  ?  These  w^ere  the  lesser  evils 
w^hich  darkly  tinged  the  whole  current  of  his  life,  and  were  the 
prelude  to  those  keener  agonies  which  immediately  preceded  its 
final  close.  Wlien  we  speak  of  that  w^e  have  not  felt,  w^e  speak 
at  random,  and  no  human  mind  can  at  all  conceive,  or  human 
tongue  express  thfe  agonies  that  wrung  the  Saviour's  soul  in 
the  liour  of  his  last  great  conflict.  There  is  an  awful  mystery 
around  the  subject  that  shrouds  it  from  huuian  view.  We 
know,  indeed,  that  he  bore  our  sins  in  his  body  on  the  cross. 
But  what  is  this — the  burden  of  our  sins  ?     We  may  have  felt 


U2  WHAT   WAS   FINISHED 

its  weight  upon  our  consciences ;  we  may  have  seen  its  tem- 
poral punishment  in  the  persons  of  others,  or  felt  it  in  our  own. 
But  what  is  this  to  the  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  v^eight 
of  anguish  which  presses  on  the  soul  hereafter?  And  what 
are  the  sins  of  an  individual  to  those  of  a  world  ?  Ah,  he  was 
mighty  to  save,  who  bore  the  burden  of  our  sins,  and  he  trav- 
ailed in  the  greatness  of  liis  strength ;  yet  did  the  pressure 
of  our  heavy  guilt  force  from  his  agonized  frame  great  drops, 
as  of  blood,  and  wring,  thrice  wring,  from  his  resigned  and 
patient  spirit  that  earnest  prayer,  "  Father,  let  tliis  cup  pass 
from  me" — this  cup  of  salvation  for  a  race,  this  cup  of  bitter- 
ness for  me,  let  it  pass  away.  We  know  that  he  who  was 
one  in  essence  with  the  Father  cried  out  upon  the  cross,  "My 
God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  deserted  me  ?" 

But  how  little  do  we  know  of  the  mysterious  and  fearful  mean- 
ing of  that  dying  cry?  Did  the  Divinity  leave  that  human 
nature  to  bear  unaided  and  alone  the  whole  penalty  due  to 
sin  ?  And  what  is  the  condition  of  one  deserted  by  God  ? 
What  darkness  gathers  around  his  soul?  What  desolation 
overspreads  his  nature?  What  despair  sickens  his  heart? 
What  torture  racks  his  frame  ?  Ah,  we  shall  never  know  the 
full  meaning  of  this  cry,  until  perdition  sliall  disclose  its 
terrors,  and  reveal  in  that  world  of  woe  the  condition  of  those 
whom  God  has  deserted  forever.  Now  these  agonies  were 
over,  the  last  drop  was  exhausted  from  the  cup  of  trembling 
and  wrath,  the  Savioui-,  about  to  leave  this  world  of  humilia- 
tion and  suifering  for  enjoyment  of  his  rightful  glories,  might 
well  exclaim  in  triumph,  ''It  is  finished." 

2d.  All  that  prophecy  had  predicted,  and  types  prefigured, 
and  hope  had  longed  for,  was  now  accomplished.  For  four 
thousand  years  man  was  a  prisoner  of  hope,  shut  up  to  the 
glory  that  was  to  be  revealed.  During  this  long  period  the 
whole  creation  longed  and  sighed  for  that  deliverance  which 
was  to  come.  This  liope  of  a  coming  deliverer  is  found 
stamped  on  the  literature,  and  interwoven  with  the  institu- 
tions and  habits,  and  the  traditions  of  the  most  distant  nations, 
from  the  remotest  times. 


m   THE   DEATH   OF   CHRIST.  143 

Tlie  sense  of  guilt  and  ignorance  and  misery,  on  which  the 
necessity  and  desire  for  such  a  Redeemer  and  Instructor  was 
founded,  expressed  itself  in  the  sacrifices,  the  self-tortures,  the 
penances,  the  pilgrimages,  the  ablutions  which  have  been  uni- 
versal among  mankind.  This  feeling  was  confined  to  no  portion 
of  the  globe,  and  no  condition  of  society,  but  was  experienced 
alike  by  the  civilized  and  the  barbarous,  by  the  peasant  and 
the  philosopher.  Whether  this  expectation  be  the  obscure 
i-ecollection  of  some  traditional  propliecy,  I  care  not  to  inquire. 
If  not  it  is  something  more  conclusive  still.  It  is  the  universal 
voice  of  nature,  the  prophecy  primeval  within  us,  not  written 
on  paper,  or  on  stone,  but  engraven  by  the  Almighty's  hand  on 
every  heart.  It  is  the  universal  yearning  of  man's  heart  after 
some  expected  and  necessary  good.  It  is  the  appetite  which 
points  to  the  proper  food.  It  is  the  want  which  indicates  a 
certain  supply.  It  is  the  adaptation  which  necessarily  supposes 
the  use. 

And  tell  me  now,  ye  who  have  studied  man,  is  there  in  his 
whole  physical,  moral,  and  intellectual  constitution  any  thing 
superfluous?  Is  there  any  universal  desire  for  which  God  has 
not  prepared  a  gratification  ?  Any  want,  for  which  there  is  no 
supply  ?  Any  adaptation,  without  a  corresponding  use  ?  Has 
God  taught  us  in  our  very  nature,  to  hunger  and  thirst  after 
righteousness,  and  does  he  supply  no  bread  of  life  ?  Does  he 
hear  the  young  ravens  when  they  cry  for  food,  but  disregard 
the  longings  of  man's  immortal  past?  And  to  what,  I  pray 
you,  is  this  universal  desire  and  expectation  adapted,  for  what 
purpose  given,  unless  to  prepare  us  for  that  Redeemer  who  at 
last  was  revealed  ?  To  preserve,  to  strengthen,  to  increase,  and 
to  render  more  distinct  this  universal  desire  and  expectation 
of  the  race,  was  the  great  object  of  the  whole  Jewish  dispen- 
sation. To  him  pointed  all  the  types,  of  him  testified  all  the 
prophets.  He  was  the  substance  of  all  the  shadows,  the  ful- 
filment of  the  whole  law.  Did  the  innocent  lamb  die  an  ofi*er- 
ing  to  God:  it  was  to  point  to  the  Lamb  of  God  slain  from 
the  foundation  of  the  world  ;  it  was  to  testify  that  without  the 
sliedding  of  blood  there  could  be  no  remission  of  sins.     Did 


144  WHAT  WAS  EINISHED 

the  scape-goat  upon  which  the  people's  sins  had  been  confessed 
flee  away  mto  the  wilderness  to  be  seen  no  more :  it  was  to 
signify  that  our  sins  should  be  borne  away  by  one  who  was 
able  to  sustain  their  burden,  and  tliat  they  should  rise  up  no 
more  in  judgment  against  us.  Was  the  whole  of  that  compli- 
cated and  expansive  ritual  kept  up  from  generation  to  gen- 
eration ;  it  was  that  each  successive  generation  might  look 
away,  through  the  shadow,  to  him  who  is  the  substance.  Did 
prophet  after  prophet  rise  and  pass  away:  it  was  that  from 
age  to  age  the  evidence  might  increase  in  quantity  and  clear- 
ness in  favor  of  that  mightier  prophet  who  was  still  to  come. 
To  prepare  for  his  coming  was  the  design  of  the  whole 
providential  government  of  God :  to  this  end  served  the  whole 
Mosaic  law,  the  august  succession  of  prophets,  the  mighty 
revolutions  of  empires  and  kingdoms.  How  do  we  love  a 
time  long  expected,  long  foretold,  long  prepared  and  prayed 
for.  This  time  the  prophets  all  desired  to  behold ;  Abraham  be- 
held it  from  afar  and  rejoiced  in  the  sight.  This  was  the  true 
"seed  of  the  Patriarch  in  whom  the  world  was  to  be  blessed." 
Moses  looked  forward  with  delight  to  the  time  when  Judah'a 
departed  sceptre  should  rest  on  Shiloh's  head  and  the  gather- 
ing of  the  people  should  be  to  him.  Isaiah,  Jeremiah,  David, 
all  the  prophets,  foretold  in  burning  strains  the  approaching 
king  and  ruler,  and  desired  earnestly  to  witness  the  realities  of 
those  wonders  which  they  had  all  predicted.  And  now  all  this 
was  completed.  What  was  so  much  desired,  predicted,  hoped, 
prayed  for,  all,  was  accomplished,  not  one  prophecy  that  con- 
cerned his  person,  his  ofiice,  his  sufferings,  had  failed.  However 
contradictory  some  might  appear,  in  him  they  were  reconciled  ; 
however  minute,  in  him  they  were  precisely  fulfilled.  Large 
were  the  hopes  that  men  had  cherished,  large  the  blessings 
they  anticipated  from  the  coming  of  this  deliverer ;  and  these 
hopes  were  expressed  and  these  blessings  described  in  language 
of  the  most  dazzling  splendor.  Those  hopes  were  surpassed, 
those  blessings  exceeded.  His  origin  was  far  nobler,  his  na- 
ture more  exalted,  his  kingdom  more  extensive,  his  designs 
more    magnificent,   and   the   accomplishment   more   glorious, 


IN   THE   DEATH   OF   CHRIST.  U5 

than  hope  had  pictured  or  language  had  portrayed.  Man 
looked  for  some  superhuman  deliverer ;  he  who  came  was  Di- 
vine:  for  some  mighty  ruler;  his  throne  is  the  heavens,  and 
the  earth  his  footstool,  and  to  his  dominion  there  is  no  bound- 
ary, and  shall  be  no  end.  Deep  was  the  interest  felt  by  heaven 
and  earth  in  the  accomplishment,  and  anxiously  were  the  eyes 
of  men  and  angels  directed  to  the  hour  when  it  should  be  said 
at  last,  "It  is  finished." 

His  birth,  which  prophets  had  long  announced  on  earth, 
angels  proclaimed  aloud  from  heaven ;  and  the  exalted  spirits 
who  appeared  with  him  on  the  mount  of  transfiguration  spoke 
of  his  decease  which  he  should  accomplish  at  Jerusalem. 
The  appointed  hour  had  now  arrived,  the  preparation  of  cen- 
turies was  completed,  the  desire  of  all  nations  had  come :  the 
seed  of  the  woman,  v.'ho  had  bruised  the  serpent's  head. 
Earth's  hopes  were  fulfilled,  heaven's  designs  accomplished. 
In  this  hour  of  deep  and  solemn  interest,  when  hell  was  pour- 
ing forth  the  last  vials  of  its  fnry,  and  all  heaven  looked  on  in 
amazement,  amidst  the  shuddering  of  nature,  the  blackening 
heavens,  the  bursting  rocks,  the  opening  sepulchres,  the  Saviour 
cried  out,  "It  is  finished."  Well  might  the  sun  veil  his  face 
from  that  spectacle  of  horror,  well  might  the  astonished  cen- 
turion exclaim,  "Truly  this  was  the  Son  of  God." 

3d.  The  glorious  work  he  had  come  to  do  was  finished. 
That  was  no  message  of  trifling  import  which  the  Saviour  came 
down  to  bear  :  that  was  no  work  of  inferior  moment  which  he 
came  down  to  execute,  for  which  he  put  forth  the  greatness 
of  his  strength,  for  which  he  lived  a  life  of  humiliation  and 
sufiering  on  earth,  for  which  he  sweat  great  drops  of  blood, 
and  off"ered  up  his  soul  to  the  agonies  of  the  cross.  In  all  the 
works  of  God  there  is  a  characteristic  majesty,  and  on  this 
there  is  the  impress  of  his  hand.  He  came  not  to  create  a 
world  of  matter,  but  to  redeem  a  world  of  immortal  spirits : 
not  to  bestow  temporal  blessings  on  an  empire  or  a  kingdom, 
but  eternal  happiness  on  the  untold  millions  of  Adam's  fallen 
raco. 

If  it  was  great  to  create,  it  was  greater  still  to  redeem.  If 
7 


148  WHAT   WAS  FINISHED 

ihe  morning  stars  sang;  together  and  the  sons  of  God  shouted 
for  joy-,  when  of  these  heavens  and  this  earth  it  was  said,  "  They 
are  finished,"  what  notes  of  higher  ecstasy  and  far  diviner  joy 
must  have  resounded  through  the  upper  sky  when  the  heavens 
and  new  earth,  in  which  dwelleth  righteousness,  were  com- 
pleted; when  the  great  scheme  of  man's  redemption  was  fin- 
ished ;  when  the  Saviour  with  his  last  dying  breath  sent  from 
his  full  soul  the  cheering  annunciation,  "  It  is  finished  !"  when 
the  attending  angels  bore  aloft  the  rapturous  tidings,  and 
heaven's  high  portals  opening  wide  uttered  t^oft  music  as  they 
proclaimed  aloud,  "It  is  finished,"  and  the  spirits  of  just  men 
canght  up  the  sound,  and,  gazing  in  each  other's  faces  as  they 
thought  of  earth,  re-echoed,  with  a  loud  enthusiasm  unknown  to 
angels,  "  Glory  to  God.  It  is  finished,"  and  God  the  Father 
accepted  the  atonement,  and  smiling  on  this  work  of  love,  said 
likewise,  "  It  is  finished." 

This  earth  had  long  been  in  bondage  to  sin  and  Satan.  Idol- 
atry, impurity,  and  misery  had  darkened  and  polluted  it.  A 
daring  and  high-handed  rebellion  had  overspread  all  its  borders. 
Darkness  covered  the  earth,  and  gross  darkness  the  people, 
and  the  last  ray  of  light  and  comfort  from  on  high,  which 
might  have  cheered  man's  desolated  heart,  was  shut  out  by  a 
dreary  and  hopeless  scepticism.  The  Saviour  had  come  to 
bring  life  and  immortality  to  light,  to  overthrow  the  power  of 
the  Evil  One,  to  cast  down  the  idols,  to  establish  a  new  govern- 
ment of  peace  and  holiness  and  love  on  earth,  to  transform 
rebellious  subjects  into  peaceful  citizens  of  his  kingdom,  to 
people  heaven  from  earth,  and  to  bring  down  to  this  lower 
world  those  heavenly  principles  Avhich  create  happiness  above. 

And,  oh,  what  mu:^t  have  been  the  delight  of  his  holy  soul, 
when  he  saw  that  the  object  of  his  mission  was  nccomplished, 
that  his  work  was  finished,  finished  beyond  defeat,  finished 
with  naught  to  add.  When,  from  the  cross  on  which  he  hung, 
he  looked  with  prophetic  vision  through  the  long,  long  lapse 
of  ages,  and  beheld  the  innumerable  multitude  of  the  redeemed, 
the  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  from  every  nation  and  peo- 
ple under  heaven,  their  garments  washed  white  in  his  blood. 


IN   THE   DEATH   OF   CHRIST.  U7 

and  their  souls  rescued  by  liis  sufferings,  how  triumphantly 
miglit  he  exclaim,  "  The  mighty  work  is  finished  !  The  fixtal 
stroke  has  been  given  to  the  kingdom  of  darkness.  The  bar- 
rier between  God  and  man  has  been  broken  down,  the  claims 
of  the  law  fully  answered.  iSTow  God  can  be  just  and  justify 
the  ungodly ;  now  Heaven  is  reconciled  to  earth,  and  all  its 
richest- blessings  are  freely  offered  to  the  lowest  of  earth's 
children.     It  is  finished  !" 

Yes,  for  you,  O  Christian  !  nothing  is  wanting.  It  is  perfect 
in  all  its  parts.  The  garment  of  righteousness,  in  which  you 
will  be  clothed,  needs  no  addition  or  improvement.  The 
Saviour  having  loved  his  own,  loved  them  on  to  the  end.  He 
drank  the  cup  of  bitterness  to  the  dregs,  he  wrought  out 
a  jDlenteous  redemption.  For  you,  O  sinner!  it  is  finished. 
Nothing  will  now  be  added.  Tliis  is  God's  last  great  effort  to 
redeem  you :  his  finished  salvation.  *'  What  more  could  I  do 
for  my  vineyard,  wdiich  I  have  not  done,  saith  the  Lord."  And 
now,  how  shall  you  escape  if  you  neglect  this  great  salvation  ? 
Heaven's  inexhaustible  treasury  hath  been  exhausted ;  the  Son 
of  God  hath  come  to  purchase  your  salvation  ;  and  what  will 
you  more  ?  If  after  all  this,  "  you  neglect  him  who  speaketh 
to  you  from  heaven,"  there  is  no  more  sacrifice  for  sin,  but  a 
certain  looking  for  of  judgment  and  fiery  indignation,  which 
shall  consume  the  adversaries.  This  is  the  only  salvation  and 
you  must  accept  this,  or  perish  in  your  sins. 

But  let  us  remember,  my  friends,  that  to  each  one  of  us,  the 
hour  shall  come  when  it  shall  be  said  of  him,  "  It  is  finished." 
A  deadly  mortality  shall  seize  upon  our  vitals,  and  the  symp- 
toms of  death  shall  gather  fast  and  thick  upon  us;  the  difficult 
and  impeded  breathing,  the  low  and  fluttering  pulse,  the  dim 
and  glazed  eye  wandering  aimless  in  the  socket,  the  mind  now 
sinking  into  stupor,  now  waking  into  fierce  and  convulsive  life 
— while  vain  are  the  remedies  of  physicians,  and  fruitless  the 
lameut.itions  of  friends.  And  at  last,  when  death's  agony  is 
over,  they  shall  say  of  us  as  they  have  said  of  others,  "  It  is 
finished."  Of  that  careless  sinner  now  trifling  away  his  day  of 
grace,  it  shall  be  said,  "  It  is  finishcl ;"  and  of  that  haughty  scot- 


148  WHAT   WAS   FINISHED,    ETC. 

fer,  now  heaping  up  wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath,  and  soon 
perhaps  to  experience  the  realities  he  now  derides,  shall  be 
said,  by  those  who  watch  around  his  dying  pillow,  "  It  is  fin- 
ished." The  agony  is  now  over ;  it  was  fearful  to  behold  :  one 
last  convulsive  effort  did  he  make  to  struggle  against  death, 
as  man  grapples  with  his  mortal  foe :  but  it  is  finished. 

Then  to  his  long  account  at  last 
With  many  a  groan  that  spirit  past. 

But  all  is  not  finished  there.  It  is  appointed  unto  man  once 
to  die,  and  after  that — what  conies  ?  Annihilation  ?  No, 
would  you  accept  it  as  a  boon  ?  But  after  death  \h.Q  judgment. 
You  may  disregard  the  judgment  of  man,  you  may  stand  before 
his  tribunal  and  challenge  scrutiny  into  all  the  actions  of  your 
life.  But  can  you  defy  the  scrutiny  of  the  heart-searching  and 
reins-trying  God  ?  Dare  you  stand  before  his  bar  and  assert 
your  perfect  and  unsullied  purity  in  word,  thought,  or  feeling  ? 
Alas,  will  you  add  insult  to  injury,  folly  to  sin,  and  madly  rush 
upon  the  vengeance  you  have" wickedly  provoked?  And  for 
you,  O  Christian,  shall  soon  be  finished  the  cares,  the  anxieties, 
the  temptations,  and  dangers  of  this  life.  On  you  shall  open 
the  unseen  glories  of  the  world  above.  But  let  us  remember, 
likewise,  that  then  will  close  all  our  opportunities  for  useful- 
ness among  our  fellow-men.  And  as  we  contemplate  this  day 
the  death  and  sufferings  of  the  Lord,  let  us  determine  to  devote 
our  whole  selves  to  him  who  has  done  all  for  us ;  who  shunned 
no  suffering  and  spared  no  expense,  that  we  might  be  saved. 
And  may  we  all  be  able  to  say,  with  the  apostle,  at  last,  "  I 
have  fought  the  good  fight,  I  have  kept  the  faith,  I  have  finished 
my  course ;  henceforth  is  reserved  for  me  a  crown,  which  he 
will  give  me  in  that  day." 


IV. 

THE  ANGELS  INTERESTED  IN  MAN'S  SALVATION. 


I.  Peter,  i.  12. — "  Which  tliiugs  the  angels  desire  to  look  into.' 


The  most  ignorant  man  in  the  community  will  believe  that 
a  stone,  thrown  from  the  hand,  will  fall  to  the  ground,  because 
this  is  an  occurrence  which  he  lias  often  observed,  and  which 
has  thus  become  familiar  to  his  mind.  By  directing  his  atten- 
tion to  the  subject,  he  may  be  easily  induced  to  admit,  that  the 
tendency  of  the  stone  toward  the  eartli  depends  on  some 
power  in  the  earth,  attracting  it  toward  itself.  But  if  you 
attempt  to  extend  the  principle  further,  and  apply  it  to  other 
parts  of  the  universe  ;  if  you  tell  him,  that  the  same  principle 
of  attraction  which  draws  the  stone  to  the  earth,  and  whose 
operation  he  may  observe  in  every  moment  of  his  life  and 
upon  all  the  bodies  around  him,  operates  likewise  upon  the 
remotest  parts  of  God's  universe,  keeps  the  stars  in  their 
course,  and  binds  the  whole  creation  together,  as  in  one  bond 
of  universal  liarmony,  you  present  to  his  mind  a  train  of 
thought,  w^hich  is  new^,  unusually  strange,  entirely  without  the 
sphere  of  his  accustomed  contemplation,  and  you  will  find  it 
extremely  difficult  to  persuade  him  that  you  are  not  endeavor- 
ing to  practise  upon  his  ignorance,  or  yourself  laboring  under 
the  melancholy  influence  of  that  *'  much  learning,  which 
maketh  men  mad." 

He  never  doubts,  indeed,  the  existence  of  the  w^orld  in  which 
we  live,  or  of  the  busy  inhabitants  which  teem  upon  its  sur- 
face, and  waste  their  frail  and  feverish  existence  in  the  pursuit 
of  its  idle  pleasures,  and  still  more  idle  and  unsubstantial  hon- 
ors ;   but  he   never  dreams  that  there  may  be  other  worlds, 


150  THE    AXGELS    TXTERESTED 

crowded  with  other  inhabitants ;  that  every  star  may  be  a  sun, 
and  every  sun  the  centre  of  a  system  as  large  as  that  to  which 
cm*  world  belongs ;  and  that  throughout  the  immensity  of 
space,  wherever  the  hand  of  the  Creator  has  spread  the  evi- 
dences of  his  almighty  power,  there  he  has  placed  intelligent, 
immortal  creatures,  to  gaze  with  rapture  on  his  works,  to 
relish  their  beauties,  and  admire  their  sublimity,  and  to  adore 
and  love  the  wonderful  Being  from  whom  these  glories  sprung. 
[N'ow  we  are  accustomed  to  smile  at  the  simple  wonder  of  some, 
or  the  hardy  incredulity  of  others,  among  the  uninformed,  when 
these  majestic  truths  are  presented  to  their  minds,  founded,  as 
we  know  they  all  are,  upon  accurate  observation  and  rational 
analogy,  and  some  of  them  upon  the  solid  basis  of  mathematical 
demonstration.  But  among  those  who  feel  their  pity  and  their 
mirth  excited  by  this  resolute  incredulity,  this  dogmatical 
scepticism  of  the  ignorant  upon  astronomical  subjects,  there 
are  not  a  few,  who  exhibit  the  same  disposition,  in  the  same 
degree  and  proceeding  from  the  same  causes,  upon  a  different 
but  much  more  important  subject. 

The  unlettered  man  rejects  the  truths  which  have  just  been 
enumerated,  because  he  does  not  know  their  evidence.  He 
sets  tliem  down  at  once  as  absurd,  merely  because  they  are 
uncommon,  because  they  do  not  lie  in  the  beaten  track  of  his 
usual  thoughts,  or  observations.  On  the  same  principle  the 
infidel  proceeds.  Pie  doubts  the  existence  of  a  future  world 
and  the  truth  of  all  that  has  been  revealed  about  it,  because 
he  does  not  understand  the  evidence  in  its  favor :  he  rejects 
it  peremptorily  as  absurd,  because  he  has  never  seen  it ; 
because  it  introduces  his  mind  to  a  train  of  thought  and 
feeling  which  is  uncommon ;  and  to  him  it  appears  unlikely, 
strange  and  incredible.  He  believes  that  there  are  other 
material  worlds  beside  the  little  globe  on  which  we  live, 
and  possibly  admits  that  they  may  be  inhabited.  But  the 
existence  of  angels  and  their  holy  employments  in  worshipping 
God,  and  ministering  to  man,  he  utterly  denies.  That  prin- 
ciple of  attraction,  which  binds  the  remotest  parts  of  the  uni- 
verse together,  is  admitted  by  him,  as  an  important  jDart  of  his 


IN    MAX'S    SALVATION.  151 

astronomical  system.  But  the  opinion  that  there  is  a  great 
principle  of  moral  sympathy,  which  attracts  the  moi-al  miiverse 
together,  and  excites  an  interest  for  the  welfare  of  moral  agents 
even  in  the  most  distant  parts  of  the  creation,  he  brands  as  the 
idlest  fantasy  of  a  disordered  brain.  While  he  gazes  vvith 
intense  interest  upon  the  motion  of  worlds  whicii  are  at  an 
immeasurable  distance  from  our  earth,  he  thinks  it  the  highest 
absurdity  to  suppose  that  there  may  be  other  beings  in  other 
worlds,  w^atching  with  thrilling  and  anxious  concern  the  ac- 
tions of  moral  agents  upon  this ;  and  while  he  gladly  employs 
the  telescopic  glass  in  examining  those  stars,  w^hich  are  invis- 
ible to  the  naked  and.  miassisted  eye,  he  proudly  rejects  as 
useless  and  absurd  those  lights  which  the  Gospel  has  provided 
to  aid  our  feeble  reason — that  moral  telescope,  which  has  been 
kindly  offered  us,  to  extend  our  vision  to  the  future  and  in- 
visible world. 

Now  the  existence  of  angels  is  not  in  itself  hitrinsically  more 
improbable  than  the  existence  of  men.  That  their  knowledge 
should  be  superior  to  ours  is  not  more  remarkable  than  our 
superiority  to  brutes ;  and  their  sympathy  with  us  is  not  more 
incredible  than  our  sympathy  in  the  sufferings  or  the  joys  ot 
inferior  beings  around  us.  The  text  asserts  that  the  angels 
desire  to  look  into  these  things,  which  concern  man's  salva- 
tion— the  great  plan  of  redemption  which  extends  pardon  to 
guilty  rebels,  and  elevates  fallen  and  ruined  beings  to  hap- 
piness and  heaven.  That  these  are  the  things  referred  to  in 
the  text  may  be  readily  seen  by  examining  the  context.  The 
expression  in  the  original  is  still  stronger  than  in  our  transla- 
tion, *'  Which  things  the  angels  anxiously  long  to  scrutinize 
closely  or  accurately."  The  interest  which  is  felt  by  the 
angels  in  the  affairs  of  this  world  is  represented,  in  other  j^arts 
of  Holy  Writ,  as  being  ardent  and  intense.  There  is  joy  in 
heaven,  and  among  the  angels  of  God,  over  even  one  sinner 
that  repenteth.  And  here  we  are  told  that  they  anxiously 
scrutinize,  strive  to  understand,  the  plan  of  salvation  and  closely 
w^atch  its  gradual  developments.  There  is  nothing  at  all  in- 
credible, that  God  should  take  some  interest  in  the  happiness 


152  THE   AN"GELS  INTERESTED 

of  those  beings  whom  he  has  created ;  or  that  those  holy,  m- 
telligent  beings,  who  partake  largely  in  his  character,  should 
feel  a  certain  portion  of  the  same  interest.  But  it  does  seem 
remarkable  that  one  little  world  should  so  strongly  excite 
the  interest,  and  attract  the  anxious  attention  of  those  high 
and  holy  beings;  and  we  may  surely  be  permitted  humbly  to 
inquire,  why  it  is  that  "the  angels  so  anxiously  desire  to  look 
into  the  things  "  which  concern  mankind. 

And  may  we  not  say  that  it  is  because  the  condition  of  our 
w^orld  is  singular  and  unexampled,  and  the  method  of  God's 
administration  over  us,  being  suited  to  our  condition,  is  like- 
wise uncommon.  The  angels  are  spiritual  beings — great  in 
power  and  vast  in  their  capacities  of  thought  and  feeling.  The 
whole  creation  of  God  is  doubtless  spread  out  as  one  great 
map  before  them,  over  w^hich  their  immortal  minds  may  expa- 
tiate forever,  gathering  each  moment  fresh  stores  of  knowledge, 
and  discovering  new  sources  of  ethereal  happiness.  What  is  the 
ardor  of  their  activity,  and  the  intensity  of  their  enjoyment,  we 
may  learn  faintly  to  conceive,  from  observing  the  operations  of 
our  own  feeble  and  contracted  minds.  Even  man,  polluted  and 
distracted  as  he  is  by  impure  and  ungovernable  passions — 
hampered  and  fettered  as  he  is  by  a  load  of  flesh  which  bears 
down  the  immaterial  spii'it  in  all  its  loftier  aspirations,  and 
sinks  exhausted  beneath  its  highest  eflbrts — even  man,  when 
the  soul  is  excited  to  its  most  vigorous  exertions  by  the  love 
of  knowledge,  or  elevated  to  its  highest  ecstasy  in  the  con- 
templation of  God's  sublime  and  wondrous  creation,  or  ex- 
panded to  its  broadest  comprehension  by  the  boundless  love 
of  a  risen  and  exalted  Saviour,  can  send  forth  thoughts  that 
wander  through  eternity,  and  think  and  feel  unutterable  things. 

Those  bright  intelligences  no  doubt  enjoy  a  wider  field  of  ob- 
servation, a  loftier  elevation  of  feeling,  and  a  more  exquisite  en- 
joyment than  we  are  able  ever  to  conceive.  To  us  this  little 
world  is  a  world  of  wonders,  and  always  affords  to  our  feeble 
minds  new  subjects  of  wondering  inquiry  during  our  short  and 
transitory  existence.  But  to  them  the  whole  is  unfolded,  and  it 
is  a  universe  of  wonders,  a  bomidless  field  of  inquiry  for  an  undy 


IN   MAN'S   SALTATION.  153 

ing  mind,  an  inexhaustible  store-house  of  pure  and  ever  increas- 
ing felicity.  On  every  part  of  this  great  universe  is  stamped 
some  feature  of  tlie  Almighty's  character.  It  is  as  one  great 
mirror  to  image  forth  his  glory,  to  reflect  his  praise.  Over 
every  portion  of  it  has  he  cast  a  gorgeous  magnificence,  an  en- 
chanting beauty,  an  awful  sublimity,  which  overpowers  the 
mind  of  an  intelligent  being,  and  subdues  the  spirit  to  the 
stilhiess  of  mute,  reverential  homage.  And  we  may  well  sup- 
pose, that  in  some  other  worlds  tliere  maybe  greater  displays 
of  almighty  power  than  in  ours.  He  may  there  have  built  up 
greater  wonders,  and  pencilled  brighter  beauties,  and  in  the 
minds  of  its  rational  inhabitants,  as  well  as  in  the  material 
scenery  upon  its  surface,  may  have  offered  to  the  eye  of  con- 
templation a  more  lovely  and  more  magnificent  spectacle. 

But  there  is  that  in  the  history  of  our  globe,  which  is  of  far 
deeper  and  more  enduring  interest  than  all  the  beauty  and  all 
the  magnificence  which  are  spread  in  such  rich  and  boundless 
profusion  over  the  other  works  of  God.  It  is  to  the  universe 
what  Palestine  is  to  our  earth — a  land  of  marvels  :  small  in  the 
space  it  fills  upon  the  chart  of  nature ;  but  wonderful  have  been 
the  events  transacted  on  its  surface  ;  and  deep  and  breathless 
has  been  the  interest  w^hich  those  events  have  excited.  We 
have  reason  to  believe  that,  of  all  the  unnumbered  worlds 
which  are  spread  over  the  immensity  of  space,  there  is  none, 
except  our  earth,  that  has  broken  loose  from  its  allegiance  to 
the  Almighty  ;  that  through  the  wide  extent  of  God's  magnifi- 
cent creation  universal  happiness  and  peace  prevail.  The 
smile  of  the  common  Father  r^sts  upon  his  obedient  children, 
and  the  voice  of  humble  gratitude  and  filial  affection  is  wafted 
to  the  throne  of  the  Eternal  from  his  intelligent  and  happy 
oftspring.  But  amidst  this  delightful  scene,  brightened  all 
over  with  the  beams  of  the  Creator's  favor,  there  is  a  little 
spot  which  lies  beneath  his  frown,  and  is  darkened  by  the 
visil)le  tokens  of  his  fierce  displeasure.  Amidst  this  general 
symphony  of  hai)py  and  unfallen  beings,  a  sound  is  heard,  it  is 
the  voice  of  wailing,  the  shriek  of  agony,  the  stifled  groan  of 
unutterable  woe.     One  portion  of  God's  happy  family  has  cast 


154  THE   AXGELS  IXTERESTED 

off  his  mild  and  paternal  goyernmeiit,  has  wandered  far  away 
from  the  community  of  holy  beings,  and  though  it  still  revolves 
around  his  sun,  and  retains  its  station  in  his  .heavens,  remains 
only  by  sufferance — a  blasted,  scorched,  and  withered  thing, 
the  abode  of  misery  and  crime. 

There  is  in  the  feeling  mind  a  pleasing  sympathy  with  joy. 
But  our  sympathy  with  sorrow  is  far  more  deep  and  perma- 
nent. And  if  upon  this  globe  there  was  but  one  instance  of 
suffering  and  affliction,  we  might  more  easily  understand  the 
nature  of  that  interest  which  attracts  the  angelic  minds  from 
the  sublimest  and  loveliest  scenery  of  creation  to  gaze  upon 
this  world  of  solitary  and  unexampled  misery.  Unhappily  we 
are  but  too  familiar  with  pain  in  all  its  shapes.  YVe  are  sur- 
rounded by  it  on  every  side  ;  we  feel  it  in  ourselves,  and  often 
still  more  acutely  in  the  persons  of  beloved  and  endeared 
fi'iends ;  till  at  last  we  have  learned  to  meet  it  without  surprise 
and  sometimes  to  bear  it  without  impatience.  But  suppose  we 
had  only  seen  one  instance  of  pain  and  misery  upon  earth  ;  that 
wherever  else  we  turned  all  was  peace  and  happiness,  every 
countenance  was  lighted  up  with  pleasure,  and  every  eye  was 
bright  with  exquisite  enjoyment ;  but  by  some  mysterious  dis- 
pensation of  a  mysterious  providence,  the  single  individual 
alluded  to  was  pressed  down  by  the  weight  of  some  over- 
whelming calamity,  his  body  racked  by  the  most  excruciating 
torments,  and  rendered  loathsome  by  disease  in  its  most  dis- 
gusting forms,  while  his  mind  was  crushed  and  blighted 
beneath  the  awful  visitations  of  heaven — frenzied  by  the  suf- 
ferings of  the  present  moment,  and  haunted  by  the  hateful 
remembrance  of  the  past,  and  the  still  more  dreadful  anticipation 
of  the  future. 

If  such  a  scene  of  suffering  were  the  only  one  on  eartli,  it 
would  be  considered  the  most  remarkable  phenomenon  that 
ever  appeared  to  excite  the  sympathies  and  attract  the  notice  of 
mankind.  In  all  tlie  glories  of  the  material  world  and  all  the 
happiness  of  its  living  inhabitants  there  would  be  nothing 
found  to  stir  so  deeply  the  feelings  of  our  nature.  The  trav- 
eller would  turn  aside  to  gaze  upon  it  as  one  of  the  world's 


IN  MAN'S   SALVATION.  155 

wonders;  the  philosopher  would  visit  it  to  observe  and  medi- 
tate; the  man  of  sensibility  to  sympatliize,  and,  if  possible,  to 
soothe.  And  when  the  tale  of  his  sufferings  was  told  in  distant 
lands  by  the  returning  voyager,  the  pale  cheek  and  the  quiv- 
ering lip  and  the  eye  bedewed  with  tears,  would  reveal  the 
power  of  that  sympathy  that  swelled  and  trembled  in  the 
bosom  of  every  hearer.  Xow  this  world  is  am6ng  the  other 
worlds  of  creation  vvhat  this  single  individual  would  be  among 
the  numerous  inhabitants  of  the  earth — a  solitary  example  of 
suffering  misfortune,  concentrating  all  the  attention  and  all  tlio 
sympathy  of  others  upon  itself. 

It  may  be  thought  that  the  sufferings  of  fallen  angels  should 
form  an  exception  to  the  generality  of  this  remark.  But  it 
seems  almost  superfluous  to  dwell  upon  the  difference  between 
the  condition  of  those  ruined  spirits  of  darkness,  shut  u])  in 
eternal  night,  and  the  unhappy  posterity  of  Adam  who,  though 
seduced  by  their  malicious  art,  are  j^risoners  of  hope,  and  many 
of  them  heirs  of  eternal  life.  There  is  certainly  a  point  in  the 
l^rogress  of  depravity  where  pity  is  converted,  into  abhorrence, 
and  all  our  sympathy  for  the  suffering  recoils  at  the  hopeless 
and  abandoned  hardihood  of  the  devoted  sufferer.  Where  this 
point  may  be  it  is  not  for  us  to  decide;  but  of  this  we  may  be 
certain,  that  the  devils  at  least  have  passed  that  point,  and 
while  their  sufferings  are  intense,  they  aie  unnoticed  and 
unpitied,  too.  So  that  for  all  the  purposes  of  argument  or 
illustration  it  is  just  the  same  as  if  their  existence  and  their 
sufferings  had  never  commenced,  or  were  all  unknown  to  the 
rest  of  the  creation.  The  devils  are  shut  out  from  the  whole 
brotherhood  of  intelligent  beings,  and  from  all  the  sympathies 
belonging  to  it,  by  the  malignancy  of  their  hatred  to  all  that 
is  good  or  lovely  in  creation.  Man  still  belongs  to  that  great 
society  of  beings,  fallen  and  polluted  as  he  is.  And  the  very 
frailty  of  his  nature,  and  the  depth  of  his  misery,  when  con- 
nected with  the  hope  of  his  amendment,  excite  a  trembling 
interest  in  his  welfare,  and  an  anxious  solicitude  for  his  restora- 
tion, which  may  be  likened  to  the  feelings  of  an  upright  ami 
virtuous  man  toward  a  licentious  and  ungodly  brother,  wliose 


156  THE   ANGELS  INTERESTED 

vices  he  abhors  and  whose  wanderings  he  laments,  while  he 
prays  and  ngonizes  and  hopes  for  his  recovery. 

But  besides  the  peculiarity  of  man's  condition,  so  well 
calculated  to  excite  curiosity  and  the  deepest  interest,  there  is 
something  singular  in  the  method  of  God's  dealing  toward 
him,  which  could  not  fail  to  engage  the  attention  of  angelic 
minds.  When  there  was  war  in  heaven,  and  the  haughty 
spirits  of  archangels  rebelled  against  the  government  of  God, 
the  arm  which  had  created  was  stretched  out  to  subdue  them. 
And  those  who  were  not  contented  with  the  hnppiness  of 
heaven  were  immediately  driven  away  into  everlasting  dark- 
ness. When  man  joined  the  standard  of  that  dark  rebellion, 
and  with  faculties  more  limited,  and  powers  less  sublime,  defied 
the  Omnipotent,  and  spurned  his  just  authority,  the  power 
which  was  exerted  to  crush  rebellious  angels  was  employed  to 
save  unhappy  man ;  to  repair  the  injury  he  had  done  himself; 
to  raise  him  from  the  ruins  of  the  fall  and  exalt  him  to  such 
a  union  and  intercourse  with  God  as  in  his  unfallen  state  Avas 
probably  unattainable.  This  whole  condition  was  extremely 
singular.  He  was  a  prisoner  of  hope ;  a  condemned,  but  re- 
y)rieved  rebel ;  a  sinner  upon  whom  the  penalty  of  sin  was  still 
unexecuted.  The  whole  history  of  man  was  one  continual 
wonder.  The  scenes  were  changed,  and  event  succeeded  event; 
but  every  new  scene  was  stronger  and  more  wonderful  than 
that  which  had  preceded  it.  Empires  rose  and  fell,  cities  were 
built  and  demolished.  Armies  met  in  the  shock  of  battle,  and 
the  blood  of  thousands  was  poured  upon  the  plain.  The  mighty 
men  of  earth  contended  for  conquest  and  for  crowns;  the 
philosopher  reasoned,  the  poet  sang,  the  prophet  swept  his 
lyre  with  holy  energy,  and  poured  from  his  rapt  soul  the  burn- 
ing language  of  inspiration ;  and  all  conspired  to  hasten  on 
the  accomplishment  of  God's  purpose  toward  man — the  great 
development  of  his  wondrous  plan.  At  last  that  hour  ariived 
for  which  all  other  hours  were  made.  And  the  angelic  hosts 
beheld  the  Lord  of  life  descending  upon  earth,  lying  in  the 
manger,  sojourning  among  men,  dying  upon  the  cross,  going 
down  into  the  grave,  and  then  arising  and  ascending  into  glory. 


IN   MAN'S  SALTATION.  157 

Upon  US  the  record  of  these  events,  all  wonderful  as  they 
are,  produces  but  a  transient  impression.  We  have  heard  them 
from  our  infancy.  They  form  a  part  of  our  most  common 
thoughts.  The  idea  of  a  Saviour  is  always  united  with  that  of 
God,  and  the  works  of  creation  and  redemption  are  associated 
in  our  minds  as  the  different  exhibitions  of  the  same  glorious 
character,  as  wonderful  in  mercy  and  in  love  as  he  is  in 
Almighty  power.  But  if  we  had  stood  among  the  angelic 
hosts  and  gazed  with  them  upon  the  new-born  creation — if  we 
had  wandered  with  them  over  all  the  universe  of  God  and 
seen,  as  far  as  created  eye  may  see,  the  immediate  revelations  of 
his  glory,  till  the  mind  was  overwhelmed  with  the  view  of  his 
boundless  jDerfections,  and  lost  in  that  mighty  field  of  contem- 
plation spread  out  before  us- -if  we  had  always  had  him  present 
to  our  minds,  arrayed  in  all  the  dazzling  glories  of  his  divinity, 
as  the  self-existent,  eternal,  unchangeable,  almighty  Jehovah, 
dwelling  in  light  inaccessible  and  full  of  glory,  reigr>ing  in 
heaven,  and  ruling  over  earth,  establishing  empires  and  crush- 
ing them  at  his  pleasure,  creating  worlds  and  upholding  them 
by  his  power — then  we  should  feel  indeed  how  wonderful,  how 
singular,  how  passing  strange,  that  condescension  was,  when 
the  Eternal  Son  became  the  babe  of  Bethlehem,  and  God  him- 
self was  manifested  in  the  fiesh.  Great  must  have  been  that 
desiorn  which  brouo^ht  him  down  to  earth,  and  well  does  it 
deserve  the  admiring  scrutiny  of  men  and  angels. 

The  method  of  God's  administration  upon  earth  is  different 
from  that  which  appears  in  heaven,  or  in  hell,  or  in  any  world 
with  which  Ave  are  acquainted.  In  heaven  all  is  love  and  hap- 
piness. In  hell  all  is  wrath  and  miseiy.  Upon  earth  there  is 
a  mingled  state  of  being  and  of  character;  and  the  administra- 
tion of  the  moral  governor  is  accommodated  to  the  condition 
of  his  subjects.  It  is  this  mixed  state  of  existence,  this  alter- 
nation of  virtue  and  vice,  of  happiness  and  misery,  which  has 
so  much  perplexed  the  minds  of  thinking  men,  which  has 
shaken  the  believer's  faith,  and  confirmed  the  atheist  in  his 
folly  ;  and  it  is  this,  we  may  suppose,  which  has  attracted, 
in  part,  the    attention  of  superior   beings.     The    love  which 


158  THE   AMGELS  INTERESTED 

bestows  happiness  on  virtue,  and  the  justice  which  inflicts  mer- 
ited punishment  on  crime,  are  characteristics  of  Deity,  insep- 
arable from  every  conception  of  his  nature,  and  exliibited 
whenever  there  is  vice  to  be  punished  and  virtue  to  receive 
enjoyment.  Such  love  and  justice  are  simple  qualities  of  a 
perfect  mind,  everywhere  exhibited  and  easily  understood. 
But  the  love  which  is  exerted  toward  the  sinner,  the  justice 
which  falls  on  the  head  of  a  mediator,  the  love  and  justice 
united,  which  punish  the  crime  but  save  the  criminal,  which 
gently  chastise  the  offender  that  he  may  cease  from  his  offence, 
which  substitute  the  lamb  when  they  cannot  dispense  with  the 
sacrifice — such  love  and  justice  are  displayed,  as  far  as  we 
know,  only  upon  earth. 

When  we  remember,  then,  how  anxiously  the  angels  gaze  on 
every  new  exhibition  of  the  divine  character- — that  heaven  and 
earth,  and  all  that  them  inhabit,  the  great  universe  itself, 
Avith  all  that  it  contains  of  sublime  or  beautiful,  glorious  or 
lovely,  are  only  admired  as  exhibiting  his  character  and  mani- 
festing his  glory — we  cannot  be  surprised  at  the  interest  which 
angels  feel  in  gazing  on  this  wondrous  exhibition,  which  has 
been  given  in  these  last  times,  through  the  plan  of  redemption, 
of  the  height  and  depth  and  length  and  breadth  of  that  love 
of  God  which  passeth  understanding. 

The  language  of  the  original,  w^hich  represents  the  angels  as 
anxiously  prying  into  the  plan  of  redemption,  seems  to  indicate 
that  the  very  mysteriousness  of  that  plan,  the.  unfa thomed  and 
unfathomable  wisdom  contained  therein,  is  one  cause  of  their 
constant  attention  to  it.  The  pleasure  of  discovering  new 
truths,  of  whatever  kind,  is  one  often  experienced  and  well 
understood  among  thinking  men.  And  when,  in  addition  to 
their  novelty,  the  truths  discovered  are  of  a  pleasing  and  ele- 
vating character,  the  satisfaction  arising  from  the  discovery  is 
greatly  increased.  The  ardor  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  is 
proportioned  to  the  enjoyment  we  receive  from  it ;  and  sucli  is 
the  nature  of  the  mind,  that,  when  its  powers  are  really  excited 
in  the  investigation  of  trutl),  difficulties  which  would  other- 
wise   appear   insuperable   vanish    before  it;    and  curiosity  is 


IN   MAN'S   SALVATION.  159 

stimulated  by  the  obscurities  which  would  otherwise  repress 
it.  We  might  compare  the  anxiety  of  the  angels  to  scrutinize 
the  plan  of  redemption,  to  the  solicitude  with  Avhich  an  aspiring 
and  indefatigable  student  pores  over  some  massy  volume  where 
he  knows  are  all  the  treasures  of  ancient  wisdom,  or  some 
knotty  problem  which  lies  in  the  pathway  of  science,  and  whose 
solution  leads  on  to  a  thousand  unknown  truths.  How  does  he 
struggle  with  the  obstacles  in  bis  way,  and  summon  all  his 
powers  to  carry  on  the  contest.  Thoiigli  often  foiled,  he  never 
despairs ;  he  never  doubts  tiie  existence  of  the  truth  he  has 
not  been  able  to  discover,  but  returns  repeatedly  to  the  inves- 
tigation, till  at  last  his  efforts  are  crowned  with  complete 
success.  So  it  may  be  with  angelic  minds.  There  may  be, 
there  are,  mysteries  to  them,  and  we  are  taught  in  our  text  to 
believe  they  are  diligently  employed  in  scriuinizing  that  part 
of  God's  plan  which  to  them  appears  mysterious. 

ISTor  is  it  inconsistent  with  any  rational  view  of  the  happiness 
of  heaven  to  suppose  that  the  inhabitants  of  that,  world  feel, 
like  ourselves,  the  desire  of  knowdedge  and  the  plea:^ure  of 
acquiring  information.  The  spirit  is  essentially  and  intensely 
active ;  its  home  is  in  the  midst  of  mighty  thought  and  lofty 
contemplation,  and  there  is  a  high-breathed  pleasure  in  the 
very  pursuit  of  knowledge  and  the  victory  over  difficulties 
that  cannot  flow  from  any  other  source.  It  is  the  perfection 
and  not  the  weakness  of  spiritual  beings,  that  they  long  insa- 
tiably after  knowledge,  and  that  this  longing  is  at  once  the 
source  of  their  highest  efforts  and  most  exquisite  enjoyments. 
I  would  not  be  understood  as  countenancing  the  opinion  that 
all  mysteries  may  be  investigated  and  understood  by  either  men 
or  angels ;  nor  that  it  is  either  wise  or  proper  to  waste,  in  the 
contemplation  of  truths  which  are  plainly  incomprehensible, 
those  faculties  which  are  given  for  far  different  purposes.  Yet 
if  the  knowledge  of  angels  is  not  all  intuitive,  it  must  progress 
by  repeated  steps,  and  that  which  now  seems  mysterious  may 
hereafter  wear  a  different  aspect.  The  gradual  development 
of  God's  plan  may  cast  new  light  upon  his  pMst  administration, 
or  the  frequent  contemplation  of  it,  as  developing  and  already 


160  THE   ANGELS   INTEEESTED 

developed,  may  open  up  new  views  of  his  holy  character  and 
ever  blessed  government. 

In  the  creation  of  the  world  his  power  and  creative  wisdom 
were  wonderfully  displayed  ;  in  its  redemption  the  same  power 
and  wisdom  are  displayed,  miited  with  a  love  and  compassion,  a 
tenderness  and  mercy  wonderful  and  divine.  In  the  heavens 
and  the  earth,  in  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  we  may  see  displayed, 
in  everlasting  characters,  the  existence  and  many  of  the  attri- 
butes of  God.  But  it  is  in  his  intelligent  and  moral  creation 
that  we  see  the  brightest  specimens  of  his  creative  wisdom ; 
and  it  is  in  his  moral  government  that  we  find  the  most  inter- 
esting subjects  for  thought  and  examination.'  How  great  is  the 
wisdom  of  that  scheme  which  ofl^ers  life  and  happiness  to  man, 
we  may  learn  from  the  folly  of  all  other  schemes  devised  by 
human  ingenuity.  All  are  self-contradictory  or  defective.  On 
all,  the  difficulty  presses  with  irresistible  power,  how  shall  jus- 
tice be  satisfied  and  the  sinner  be  saved  ?  In  the  Gospel,  mercy 
and  truth  have  met  together  ;  righteousness  and  peace  have 
kissed  each  other,  and  now  God  can  be  just,  and  the  justifier  of 
the  ungodly  who  believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  On  the 
Gospel  plan  the  sinner  is  saved  from  all  his  sins :  the  very 
method  of  salvation  is  a  method  of  jDurification ;  and  the  voice 
which  says,  "  thy  sins  be  forgiven  thee,"  says  likewise,  '*  go 
and  sin  no  more."  If  the  morning  stars  sang  together  and  the 
sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy,  when  the  world  was  created,  light 
was  brought  out  of  darkness,  and  from  the  confusion  of  chaos 
there  arose  a  scene  of  smiling  loveliness  and  beauty,  well  may 
the  angels  rejoice  together,  when  by  the  same  almighty  power 
similar  effects  are  produced  in  the  moral  world.  Order  and 
harmony,  peace  and  happiness,  spring  forth  from  that  chaos  of 
warring  elements,  that  abode  of  vice  and  misery,  the  depraved 
unregenerated  heart  of  man.  And  if  it  be  admitted  that  the  liv- 
ing and  immortal  beings  around  us  are  of  greater  dignity  and 
importance  than  the  material  world  which  we  inhabit,  then 
will  the  grandeur  of  the  great  plan  of  salvation  appear  in  its 
proper  light,  and  the  wisdom  which  devised  and  executed  it, 
will  be  acknowledged  as  that  which  was  hidden  in  Christ,  from 


IN    MAXS    SALVATIOX.  IGl 

the  foundation  of  the  world  ;  and  this  scheme  of  condescend- 
iiior  mercy  will  be  honored  as  that  last  great  exhibition  of  him- 
self, by  which  God  designs  to  be  known  to  his  intelligent  crea- 
tion, to  whicli  all  his  other  works  are  tributary,  and  in  which 
all  finally  meet. 

Let  us  observe  now,  First,  What  a  view  this  subject  gives  us 
of  the  character  and.  employments  of  angels  and  the  happiness 
of  heaven. 

The  happiness  of  heaven  does  not  consist  in  the  passive  re- 
ception of  pleasure.  In  other  parts  of  God's  Word  we  are  told 
that  the  angels  are  ministering  spirits,  swift  to  do  God's  will : 
"  that  his  ministers  are  a  flame  of  fire."  They  are  frequently 
spoken  of  as  going  on  errands  of  kindness  to  men,  and  their 
very  name  of  messenger  indicates  the  activity  of  their  engage- 
ments. They  are  said  to  have  shouted  for  joy  at  the  creation 
of  the  world,  and  still  to  feel  a  deep  interest  in  the  welfare  of 
its  inhabitants.  From  this  we  may  fairly  presume  that  they  are 
a<'quainted  with  the  condition  of  the  various  portions  of  the 
universe,  and  are  accustomed  to  employ  their  minds  in  observ- 
ing their  situation,  and  as  far  as  possible  rendering  them  ser- 
vice. Let  no  indolent  and  useless  man  suppose  that  he  could  en- 
joy the  society  of  heaven.  All  is  life,  activity,  and  feeling  there, 
and  his  dull  repose  would  be  constantly  disturbed  by  the  zeal 
of  its  inhabitants.  The  cultivation  and  the  exercise  of  benev- 
olent and  kindly  feelings,  seems  to  be  one  of  the  chief  employ- 
ments and  most  delightful  duties  of  heaven.  Let  no  man  then, 
however  lol'ty  his  intellect,  or  extensive  his  requirements,  how- 
ever pressing  or  important  his  business  may  be — let  no  man, 
upon  any  pretence  whatever,  neglect  the  cultivation  of  benev- 
olent feelings.  To  weep  with  those  that  weep,  and  rejoice  with 
those  that  rejoice,  to  sympathize  readily  and  deeply  with  our  liel- 
low-men  under  all  the  trials  of  this  changing  world,  to  deserve 
and  to  receive  their  sympathies  in  return,  is  a  luxury  which  kings 
might  envy,  did  they  know  its  sweetness.  Real  benevolence 
of  feelinor  is  at  once  the  stronsrest  evidence  and  the  loveliest 
ornament  of  a  truly  elevated  mind.  Let  us  learn,  too,  from  the 
example  of  angels  not  to  despise  any  of  our  fellow -men,  how- 


162  THE    AXGELS   INTERESTED 

ever  weak  in  intellect,  low  in  station,  or  degraded  in  vice.  They 
sympathize  with  us  in  all  our  pollution.  Shall  not  we  do  good 
to  all  our  fellow-men  whenever  an  opportunity  occurs  ?  It 
cannot  be  improper  here  to  remark  how  closely  the  truths  ot 
divine  revelation  agree  witli  the  purest  dictates  of  enlightened 
minds.  The  heathen  Elysium  and  the  Turkish  paradise  are 
represented  as  the  abodes  of  sensual  eujoyraent  or  indolent  ease  ; 
but  the  heaven  of  the  Bible  is  the  home  of  the  spirit,  its  pleasures 
are  spiritual  and  pure,  its  employments  are  worthy  an  immor- 
tal nature,  and  constitute  at  once  its  duty  and  its  happiness. 

Let  us  observe,  in  the  Second  place,  the  justice  of  God 
in  the  condemnation  of  the  sinner.  If  no  salvation  had 
been  offered  to  man,  if  no  light  had  shone  upon  his  darkness, 
no  hope  had  beamed  upon  his  ruin,  if  he  had  been  left  ignorant 
of  his  origin,  his  nature,  and  his  destiny,  and,  thus  groping  his 
darkling  way  along  the  journey  of  life,  had  stumbled  throngli 
inadvertence  or  wandered  from  the  path,  his  misery  would  have 
excited  the  sympathies  of  all  benevolent  beings,  and  abhor- 
rence for  his  crimes  would  have  been  forgotten  in  pity  for  his 
sufferings.  Butli2:ht  has  come  into  the  world,  and  men  have 
loved  darkness  rather  than  light.  "Nature  with  open  A^olunie 
stands  "  to  instruct  the  ignorance  of  man,  and  the  volume  of 
God's  great  revelation  has  brought  life  and  immortality  to  light. 
The  dictates  of  reason  have  been  forgotten  amidst  the  tumult 
of  the  passions.  But  the  precepts  of  revelation  have  be^Mi 
heard  sustaining  its  authority.  The  silent  instruction  which  is 
given  by  the  works  of  God,  and  which  Mis  like  the  music  .of  the 
spheres  upon  the  mind  prepared  to  hear  it,  has  been  unheeded 
amidst  the  bustle  and  agitation  of  life.  But  a  voice  has 
come  from  heaven,  to  arrest  the  attention  of  mankind  ;  and 
the  monitor  within,  which  no  tyranny  can  awe  and  no  neg- 
lect can  silence,  still  is  heard  in  the  darkness  of  night  and 
the  stillness  of  retirement,  bearing  solemn  witness  to  truth. 
Without  the  Bible,  all  would  indeed  be  darkness ;  and 
this  miserable  world  of  ours,  as  it  wheels  its  annual  round 
in  the  system  vrith  its  sister  planets,  but  separated  far  away 
from  the  moral  system  of  the  universe,  might  be  compared  to 


IN   MAN'S   SALVATION.  1C3 

some  stately  vessel  whicli  the  storm  had  separated  from  her  com- 
panions, and,  broken  loose  from  her  moorings,  had  cast,  with 
all  her  precious  cargo,  in  a  dai-k  night,  on  a  tempestuous  ocean, 
without  a  pilot  to  direct  her  course,  or  a  twinkling  star  to  guide 
her  wanderings.  But  wliile  all  is  darkness  without  and  all  is 
misery  within,  while  slie  is  tossed  by  the  tempest  and  shattered 
by  the  billov/s,  and  the  last  hope  is  fast  turning  to  despair,  the 
eye  which  is  directed  to  heaven  beholds  a  star  shining  brightly 
through  that  darkness.  It  is  the  Star  of  Bethlehem  !  pouring 
its  own  calm  and  heavenly  radiance  across  those  troubled 
waters  and  pointing  to  that  heaven  of  eternal  rest.  Oh,  who 
would  not  look  to  it  as  the  star  of  hope,  as  the  harbinger  of 
peace,  as  the  messenger  of  mercy  ! 

But  such  is  not  man.  That  star  has  shone  in  vain.  The  Sun 
of  Righteousness  has  risen  to  enlighten  the  world,  but  many 
have  turned  their  backs  upon  his  brightness,  and,  enjoying  his 
reflected  light,  have  boasted  of  the  acuteness  of  their  natural 
vision,  and  denied  the  existence  of  the  great  luminary  they  re- 
fuse to  see.  Oh,  how  shall  they  escape,  who  reject  this  offered 
illumination,  and  love  their  darkness,  with  all  its  misery,  better 
than  the  light  an<l  joy  and  peace  of  the  Gospel !  The  scheme 
of  salvation  Avhich  has  been  offered  to  men  is  such  as  it  became 
God  to  reveal  and  man  to  accept.  There  are  those  indeed 
among  our  dying  race,  who  think  it  wholly  unworthy  of  their 
serious  attention,  who  neither  deign  to  study  its  character  or 
investigate  its  evidences.  But  how  shall  they  excuse  their  folly 
or  their  pride,  who  despise  the  revelation  that  God  has  given, 
and  angels  desire  to  look  into — a  revelation  which  he  has 
stamped  with  his  own  broad  seal  of  authenticity,  and  which 
they  have  delighted  to  study,  as  the  most  glorious  exhibition 
of  his  character  ?  And  how  shall  the  sinner  excuse  his  heed- 
less indifference  about  his  own  salvation,  when  the  angels  of 
heaven  are  so  deeply  concerned  in  the  happiness  of  man  ?  It 
surely  aggravates  his  guilt  and  must  add  awfid  horror  to  his 
condemnation — that  his  sins  have  been  committed  in  spite  of 
the  warnings  and  entreaties  and  sympathies  of  the  highest  and 
holiest  beings  in  the  universe — that  he  has  cast  away  from 


1C4  THE   ANGELS   INTERESTED,  ETC. 

hira  his  brightest  hopes  and  trampled  under  foot  his  lofty 
destinies. 

It  too  often  happens  that  we  have  to  observe  among  our  fel- 
low-men a  species  of  conduct  which  will  serve  to  illustrate  our 
argument.  We  often  see  a  young  man,  bright  in  promise  and 
buoyant  in  hope,  hastening  at  the  commencement  of  life  into 
those  paths  of  dissipation  and  folly  which  destroy  alike  his 
present  happiness  and  future  prospect.  And  while  the  mind 
contemplates  with  pain  the  melancholy  wreck  of  what  he  was, 
and  turns  away  in  disgust  from  the  tliought  of  what  he  is,  does 
it  not  serve  to  nggravate  his  guilt,  when  we  remember,  how  he 
disregarded  a  father's  warning  and  a  mother's  prayers,  how  he 
destroyed  the  happiness  of  a  family  whose  happiness  was  bound 
up  in  him,  how  he  proved  false  to  all  the  bright  hopes  and  fair 
expectations  of  his  friends,  to  his  own  early  promise  and  high 
capabilities  I 

Precisely  analogous  to  this  is  the  condition  of  man.  Pos- 
sessing large  capacities  for  happiness  and  moral  improvement, 
the  sympathies  of  God  and  angels  are  enlisted  in  his  favor. 
Eternal  happiness  is  presented  for  his  acceptance,  and  eternal 
misery  is  the  awful  punishment  of  his  guilt.  All  heaven  is 
anxious  for  his  welfare.  God  himself  gives  his  Son  for  his  sal- 
vation; the  angels  are  ministering  spirits,  that  minister  unto 
him,  and  with  trembling  solicitude  observe  every  step  of  his 
career.  All  hell  is  awake  and  smiles  with  horrible  delight  at 
the  prospect  of  his  ruin.  He  is  placed,  as  it  were,  upon  an  ele- 
vated theatre — the  object  of  continued  observation  to  invisible 
and  innumerable  beings.  AYith  every  thing  to  stimulate  him 
to  duty,  should  he  prove  insensible  to  his  great  responsibili- 
ties, should  he  forget  his  rational  and  immortal  nature,  and 
fall  from  the  high  station  which  God  designed  him  to  occupy, 
great  must  be  the  fall  thereof,  and  upon  his  own  head  the  guilt 
of  his  own  destruction. 


V. 

PAUL'S  ZEAL  FOR  ISRAEL,  AND  ITS  LESSONS. 


Rom.  ix.  1-5. — I  say  the  truth  in  Christ,  I  lie  not,  my  conscience  also 
bearing  me  witness  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  that  I  have  great  heaviness  and 
continual  sorrow  in  ray  heart.  For  I  could  wish  that  myself  were  accursed 
from  Christ  for  ray  brethren,  ray  kinsmen  according  to  the  flesh :  who  are 
Israelites;  to  whom  pertaineth  the  adoption,  and  the  glory,  and  the  cove- 
nants, and  the  giving  of  the  law,  and  the  service  of  God,  and  the  promises  ; 
whose  are  the  fathers,  and  of  whom,  as  concerning  the  flesh,  Christ 
came,  who  is  over  all,  God  blessed  for  ever.     Amen. 


The  preceding  chapter  terminates  the  apostle's  discussion 
of  the  great  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith.  He  had  clearly 
proven,  that  there  could  be  no  justification  by  works,  because 
Jews  and  Gentiles  were  both  concluded  under  sin,  the  Gentile 
having  disregarded  the  dictates  of  conscience,  the  law  written 
on  their  hearts,  and  closed  their  eyes  against  the  light  which 
beams  so  brightly  from  God's  glorious  works ;  while  the  Jews 
had  sinned  against  the  clearer  light  of  revelation,  and  broken 
even  the  law  of  Moses,  by  which  they  expected  to  be  saved. 
If,  therefore,  there  be  any  method  of  salvation  for  man,  the 
apostle  most  conclusively  argues,  it  must  be  one,  not  of  man's 
devising,  nor  depending  on  human  merit,  but  one  devised  by 
God  for  our  benefit,  and  procured  by  the  merits  of  another. 
This  he  calls  "  God's  method  of  justification,  through  faith  in 
Jesus  Christ." 

Now,  this  whole  method  of  justification,  through  the  merits 
of  another,  and  without  the  deeds  of  the  law — ^justification 
oflfered  freely  alike  to  Gentile  and  Jew,  the  circumcision  and 
the  uncircumcision — was  a  perfect  novelty  to  the  unsanctified 
Jew,  and  a  thousand  objections  would  immediately  spring  up 


loG  PAUL'S   ZEAL  FOE,  ISRAEL, 

in  his  miDcl  against  a  doctrine  so  adverse  to  his  prejudices  as  a 
Jew,  so  humbling  to  his  pride  as  a  man.  It  was  a  doctrine 
which,  superseding  the  sacrifices  of  the  law,  and  promising 
salvation  without  obedience  to  its  ritual,  seemed  blasphemy 
against  Moses  and  the  prophets.  Offering  salvation  to  the 
Gentiles,  many  of  whom  believed,  and  denouncing  eternal  per- 
dition against  the  Jews,  most  of  whom  rejected  its  proffered 
blessings,  it  seemed  to  reverse  the  whole  order  of  God's  gra- 
cious dispensations,  nnd  to  wrest  from  the  children  of  xVbraham 
the  glorious  privileges  ]iromised  to  their  father,  merely  that 
they  might  be  dis})ensed  with  impious  hands  to  the  detested 
Gentiles  ;  thus  making  void  the  faithfulness  of  God,  and  wast- 
ing upon  dogs  the  children's  bread.  "  What  advantage,  then," 
he  would  indignantly  exclaim,  "  what  advantage  hath  the 
Jew?  and  what  profit  is  there  in  circumcision?"  Shall  the 
unbelief  of  man  make  void  the  faithfulness  of  God? 

The  apostle  glances  at  these  various  objections  as  he  passes 
on,  but  leaves  the  full  consideration  of  them  all,  and  the  awful 
consequences  connected  with  them  to  the  9th  chapter,  where 
he  announces  God's  final  rejection  of  the  Jews  for  unbelief, 
and  shows  that  all  the  promises,  on  which  they  so  securely  de- 
pended, were  made  to  the  spiritual,  and  not  to  the  natural, 
seed  of  Abraham — that  the  same  sovereignty  which  chose  at 
first,  might  now,  without  injustice,  reject  them,  and  that 
this  terrible  rejection  had  been  often  predicted  by  the  holy 
prophets. 

In  approaching  this  awful  and  distressing  subject,  the 
apostle  exhibits  all  that  tenderness  of  heart,  and  all  that 
knowledge  of  human  character,  for  which  he  is  elsewhere  so 
remarkable.  In  the  former  part  of  the  Epistle,  he  has  em- 
ployed all  the  stores  of  his  varied  erudition,  and  all  the  powers 
of  his  vigorous  mind,  to  combat  their  prejudices  and  refute 
their  objections.  But  here  all  the  deep  sensibilities  of  his 
noble  and  affectionate  nature  burst  forth  in  a  torrent  of  the 
most  kind  and  afi'ecting  expressions.  Whatever  obscurity  may 
involve  one  or  two  expressions  in  this  celebrated  passage,  and 
however  critics  may  differ  in  their  interpretation,  it  is  easy  to 


AND   ITS  LESSONS.  167 

understand  the  general  tenor  of  the  whole,  and  to  sympathize 
with  the  apostle's  overwhelming  emotions. 

He  was  about  to  announce  to  them  the  disappointment  of  all 
their  dearest  hopes,  the  overthrow  of  all  their  most  fondly- 
cherished  expectations,  as  he  looked  forward  to  the  day  when 
Jerusalem  should  be  laid  in  heaps,  when  God's  holy  temple 
should  be  defiled  with  impious  hands,  and  the  hundred  thou- 
sand of  that  deluded  people  should  perish  by  the  invader's 
sword.  And  as  he  remembered  that  they  were  bone  of  his  bone 
and  liesh  of  his  flesh,  the  children  of  Abraham,  the  chosen 
]!eople,  honored  of  God  to  be  the  depositaries  of  his  religion, 
and  the  nation  from  whom  his  own  Son  sprang,  would  not  all 
the  feelings  of  the  man  and  the  Christian  combine  to  awaken 
emotions  of  unutterable  sorrow  ?  He  knew  that  they  viewed 
him  as  an  enemy,  because  he  had  told  them  the  truth,  had  ad- 
vocated the  equal  participation  by  the  Gentiles  of  the  blessings 
of  salvation,  and  had  professed  to  be  sent  of  God,  especially  to 
the  Gentiles.  He,  therefore,  most  solemnly  assures  them,  as  a 
Christian  man  whose  conscience  was  enlightened  by  the  Holy 
Ghost,  that  so  far  from  taking  pleasure  in  announcing  the 
awful  sentence  of  God  against  them,  it  filled  him  with  per- 
petual grief;  that,  so  far  from  cherishing  any  hostility  against 
his  people  on  account  of  their  ill  treatment,  or  his  own  peculiar 
vocation  to  the  Gentile  world,  he  could  wish  himself  accursed 
from  Christ,  as  our  translation  expresses  it,  or  as  it  might  be 
rendered,  he  could  wish  that  he  had,  if  consistent  with  God's 
will,  been  "  set  apart "  by  Christ,  for  the  service  of  the  Jews, 
as  Peter  was,  instead  of  the  Gentiles.  It  was  not  his  want  of 
affection  for  them,  nor  his  desire  to  exalt  the  Gentiles  above 
them,  but  the  wise  and  sovereign  determination  of  God,  which 
led  him  to  turn  his  attention  to  those  who  were  lying  in  dark- 
ness and  the  shadow  of  death. 

It  has  been  already  suggested  that  learned  men  have  been 
much  divided  in  the  interpretation  of  some  parts  of  this  pas- 
sage. In  the  dry  details  of  verbal  criticism,  it  can  scarcely  be 
expected  that  a  promiscuous  assembly  should  feel  much  in- 
terest, or  from  it  derive  much  profit.     I  shall  not  therelbre  de- 


168  PAUL'S  ZEAL  FOR  ISRAEL, 

lay  you  by  discussing,  or  even  mentioning,  the  various  opinions 
respecting  the  expressions  translated,  "  I  could  wish  that  my- 
self were  aceui-sed  from  Christ."  I  will  only  allude  to  that 
which  is  most  satisf  ictory  to  my  own  mind,  and  the  reasons  for 
adopting  which  may  be  easily  understood,  even  by  those  not 
acquainted  with  the  original. 

Men's  feelings  are  as  various  as  their  opinions,  and  therefore 
I  cannot  be  certain  that  I  express  the  feelings  of  others,  as  well 
as  my  own,  in  saying,  that  the  idea  conveyed  in  our  authorized 
translation  ajipears  extremely  revolting  and  unnatural.  It 
seems  impossible,  if  it  were  even  right,  and  wrong  even  if  it 
were  possible,  to  choose,  on  any  conditions,  to  be  accursed  from 
Christ,  and  banished  from  his  presence  forever.  We  may 
separate,  in  imagination,  the  sufferings  of  the  damned  from 
burning  hostility  against  God,  but  they  are  never  separated  in 
fact,  and  he  who  chooses  hell  for  his  residence,  in  reality,  and 
not  merely  in  imagination,  chooses  not  only  the  darkness  and 
the  fire  and  the  worm  that  never  dies,  but  the  sin,  the  pollu- 
tion, the  utter  alienation  from  God  and  daring  rebellion  against 
his  authority,  which  are  the  true  spirit  of  the  lost  and  the 
necessary  qualification  for  their  society.  If  then  the  pnssage 
will  bear  a  different  interpretation,  one  which  is  consistent 
with  the  context  and  perfectly  natural,  while  it  is  attended 
with  no  difficulty,  arising  from  the  constitution  of  man's  na- 
ture, or  the  truths  elsewhere  revealed,  or  the  duties  elsewhere 
inculcated,  in  the  Bible,  we  need  not  hesitate  to  adopt  it ;  re- 
membering, that  in  inquiries  of  this  nature,  probability  must 
be  our  guide,  and  the  certainty  of  absolute  conviction  is  rarely 
attainable. 

In  the  Latin,  Greek,  and  Hebrew  languages,  the  same  word 
which  is  sometimes  translated  "  accursed  "  or  "  cursed,"  means 
originally  "  separated,"  "  set  apart  "  for  any  purpose.  Thus  in 
Joshua,  vii.  1,  the  spoils  were  called  "accursed,"  because  they 
were  set  apart  for  God,  devoted  to  his  service,  and  the  living 
animals  among  them  destined  to  death.  So  in  Leviticus,  xxvii. 
28,  it  is  said,  "  every  devoted  thing,"  every  anathema.,  as  it  is 
in  the  Greek  version,  the  very  word  used  in  the  passage  before 


AND   ITS   LESSORS.  10 'J 

US,  and  in  Joshua  vii.  1,  "is  most  holy  unto  the  Lord."  Here 
the  same  word,  which  in  Joshua  and  in  Romans  is  rendered 
"  accursed,"  is  said  to  be  "  most  holy  ;"  because  holiness,  as  we 
all  know,  means  separation,  being  set  apart  for  the  service  of 
God.  Now  in  this  same  chapter  of  Leviticus  there  are  two 
words,  each  of  which  is  employed  to  express  this  idea  of  separa- 
tion, devotion  to  God,  and  each  of  these  words  is  found  likewise 
applied  to  St.  Paul  in  the  New  Testament.  The  latter  is  a]>plied 
undoubtedly  to  St.  Paul  for  the  purpose  of  expressing  the  fact 
of  his  being  set  apart  to  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel.  In  Acts 
xiii.  2,  where  Barnabas  and  Paul  were  set  apart  for  their  work 
and  in  Galatians,  i.  15,  where  St.  Paul  informs  us,  that  he  was 
set  apart  from  his  mother's  womb,  and  called  by  the  grace  of 
God  ;  and  here  in  the  ninth  chapter  of  Romans,  we  find  the 
other  applied  to  the  same  apostle.  If  the  words,  when  used  in 
the  Old  Testament  in  relation  to  one  subject,  are  supposed  to 
have  the  same  meaning,  why  may  they  not  be  similarly  trans- 
lated w^hen  applied  in  the  New  Testament  to  another  subject? 
If  then  the  word  here  translated  "accursed"  be  rendered 
"set  apart,"  all  difficulty  and  obscurity  Avill  be  removed,  and 
we  see  at  once  how  natural  is  the  assurance,  which  the  apostle 
gives  his  brethren,  that  it  was  not  his  own  choice,  but  the 
command  of  God,  which  sent  him  to  the  heathen;  and  that  if 
left  to  himself,  he  would  have  chosen  rather  "  to  be  set  apart 
by  Christ,"  the  gi-fiat  head  of  the  cliurch,  for  the  benefit  of  the 
Jews,  his  brethren  according  to  the  flesh. 

The  circumstances  which  the  apostle  afterward  enumerates, 
in  tlie  fourth  verse,  are  probably  designed,  in  part,  to  convince 
the  Jews,  that  he  was  not  insensible  to  all  those  tender  and 
glorious  recollections  which  were  inseparably  connected  with 
the  name  of  Jerusalem,  and  the  imperishable  heritage  of  Ja- 
cob's children  ;  and,  perhaps  in  part,  to  show,  that  he  as  will- 
ingly acknowledged  and  appreciated,  as  highly  as  any  other, 
the  distinguished  favors  bestowed  upon  them  from  on  high. 
Hence  he  dwells  with  emphasis  upon  the  titles  they  possessed 
and  the  privileges  they  enjoyed.  They  were  Israelites,  tlie  de- 
scendants of  Jacob,  called  by  his  name,  "  who  as  a  prince  had 


170  PAUL'S   ZEAL  FOR   ISRAEL, 

power  with  God  and  prevailed ;"  tliey  were  adopted  into  the 
family  of  God  and  called  his  children,  as  he  said  to  Pharaoh, 
Exodus,  iv.  22,  23,  "Israel  is  my  son,  even  my  first-born  :  let 
my  son  go,  that  he  may  serve  me,"  and  Jeremiah,  xxxi.  9,  "  I 
a  ma  father  to  Israel,  and  Ephraim  is  my  first-born."  They 
possessed  the  glory  likewise,  the  visible  manifestation  of  God's 
presence,  in  the  Shekinah.  To  them  belonged  the  covenants 
.  made  at  various  times  with  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob  ;  to  them 
alone,  of  all  the  nations,  had  God  condescended  to  give  a  written 
law,  by  the  hand  of  Moses.  On  them  had  he  bestowed  a  form 
of  religious  service  which  was  acceptable  to  him,  while  others 
were  left  in  darkness  and  often  sinned  most  in  their  most  solemn 
attempts  to  serve  him.  To  them  all  the  promises  were  given ; 
to  them  belonged  the  fathers  of  the  Jewish  nation,  those  holy 
men  Avho  enjoyed  such  intimate  intercourse  with  God,  that 
they  were  called  his  friends.  But  above  all  it  was  in  the  Jew- 
ish nation  that  the  Saviour  first  appeared,  and  of  a  Jewish 
virgin  he  condescended  to  be  born.  These  glorious  distinctions 
the  apostle  by  no  means  denied  to  the  Jewish  people.  Nay, 
he  rejoiced  in  them  himself,  and  thought  it  "much  advantage, 
every  way,  to  be  born  a  Jew."  But  the  height  to  which  they 
w^ere  exalted  only  made  him  shudder  the  more  at  the  prospect 
of  their  frightful  fall.  They  had  long  rejoiced  in  the  beams 
of  God's  cheering  favor,  and  were  so.on  to  sink  into  a  ray- 
less,  starless,  hopeless  night. 

It  is  almost  incredible  how  much  learning  and  ingenuity  have 
been  unprofitably  exhausted  in  the  effort  to  avoid  the  evidence 
contained  in  the  fifth  verse  for  the  real  and  underived  divinity 
of  our  blessed  Saviour.  He  is  there  called,  "  God  over  all, 
blessed  forever." 

It  is  obvious  to  the  least  observant  reader  that  when  we 
are  told,  in  the  first  clause  of  the  verse,  that  Christ  came 
of  the  fathers  according  to  the  flesh,  we  naturally  expect  to 
hear,  in  the  succeeding  clause,  that  he  was  not  of  the  fathers  in 
some  other  respect.  This  part  of  the  antithesis  is  naturally 
supplied,  when  we  are  told,  that  he  is  "God  over  all,  blessed 
forever."     Tiiis  expression  coincides  exactly,  both  in  the  origi- 


AND    ITS   LESSOIS^S.  17  I 

nnl  and  in  tiie  English  translation,  with  the  "  supreme  God." 
Ileuee  we  have  a  complete  refutation  here,  did  not  its  own  in- 
trinsic absurdity  refute  it,  of  the  Arian  hypothesis,  which  rep- 
resents our  Saviour  as  an  inferior  deity,  as  divine  yet  not  very 
God.  There  we  are  infoimed  that  lie  is  not  only  God,  but 
supreme  God,  as  we  are  told  by  the  apostle  John,  "  Ibis  is  the 
true  God  and  everlasting  life." 

The  passage  of  God's  Word  to  which  our  thoughts  have  been 
directed  may  suggest  several  profitable  reflections.  First,  We 
may  learn  fj'om  the  example  of  St.  Paul  the  amiable  and  lovely 
nature  of  true  Christian  principle. 

In  whatever  condition  we  contemplate  the  great  apostle  of  the 
Gentiles,  he  seems  jieculiarly  calculated  to  call  forth  our  admi- 
ration. While  standing  before  King  Agrippa,  and  boldly, 
though  in  chains,  proclaiming  the  tiuth  of  the  Gospel  he  had 
espoused,  we  cannot  but  sympathize  with  the  manly  courage 
and  intellectual  energy  that  could  meet  unmoved  the  dangers 
that  environed  him,  and  admire  the  power  of  that  simple  but 
l)ointed  eloquence  which  made  the  dissolute  monarch  exclaim, 
"  Almost  thou  persuadest  me  to  be  a  Christian."  When  stand- 
ing on  Mars'  Hill,  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  cavilling  philoso- 
phers and  superstitious  people,  we  cannot  but  observe  the 
adroit  and  dexterous  skill  with  which  he  preached  the  Gospel 
from  a  text  furnished  by  a  heathen  altar  ;  and,  beginning  from 
the  "  unknown  God"  whom  they  blindly  worshipped,  made 
known  that  great  and  spiritual  Jehovah,  who  has  made  all  the 
nations,  and  in  whom  we  ''  live  and  move  and  have  our  being." 
But  never  does  he  appear  in  a  more  engaging  or  attr.ictive 
light,  than  when,  j^ouring  out  his  lamentations  over  his  blinded 
countrymen,  he  endeavors  gently  to  reveal  to  them  the  coming 
ruin,  soothing  their  wounded  pride  by  the  recollection  of  their 
ancestral  glory,  and  disarming  their  inveterate  prejudices  by 
the  ardor  of  his  overflowing  aftection. 

How  dilierent  from  the  conduct  of  many  men  of  distinguished 
talents,  who  seem  to  suppose  that  the  possession  of  uncommon 
powers,  and  the  performance  of  extraordinary  services,  releases 
them  from  all  obligation  to  cultivate  thoise  gentler  social  vir- 


172  PAULS  ZEAL    FOR   ISRAEL, 

tues  wlucli  communicate  a  winning  gracefulness  to  Christian 
character,  and  shine  with  a  lovelier  radiance  when  harmo- 
niously blended  with  the  learning  that  commands  our  respect 
or  the  genius  that  excites  our  admiration.  How  different,  too, 
from  the  spirit  of  those  who,  in  rude  and  unfeeling  language, 
thunder  forth  their  denunciations  against  the  sinner,  not  re- 
membering that  we  all  are  involved  in  the  like  condemnation,  for- 
getting the  tender  lamentations  of  St.  Paul  over  his  blinded 
countrymen,  and  the  example  of  Him — Paul's  superior  and  his 
Master — who,  as  he  gazed  upon  Jerusalem,  that  cruel  city,  reek- 
ing with  the  blood  of  murdered  prophets,  and  then  thirsting 
for  his  own,  wept  at  the  spectacle  of  their  present  thoughtless- 
ness and  the  prospect  of  their  approaching  doom.  Let  us,  my 
Christian  friends,  mingle  tenderness  v>'ith  efforts  to  save  dying 
men  around  us.  Let  the  tears  of  our  compassion  water  the 
seed  that  we  sow.  The  cloud  that  darkly  lowers  and  thunders 
loudly  may  pass  over  our  heads  and  leave  no  memorial  behind 
it  but  the  scathed  and  shattered  trunk  which  the  lightning 
hath  riven  in  its  course.  It  is  the  gentle  shower,  which  distils 
upon  hill  and  valley,  on  the  green  grass  and  cultivated  field, 
that  causes  man's  heart  to  rejoice  with  gladness,  and  cheers  the 
wearied  husbandman  with  the  prospect  of  an  abundant  har- 
vest to  reward  his  daily  toil. 

Second,  The  rejection  of  the  Jews  from  being  the  people  of 
God  is  an  awful  subject,  full  of  terror,  of  warning,  and  instruc- 
tion. The  apostle  could  not  approach  the  subject  without  stop- 
ping to  pour  forth  his  lamentations.  How  are  the  mighty 
fallen,  how  is  the  most  fine  gold  become  dim  !  Jerusalem,  the 
city  of  our  God,  the  mother  of  the  faithful,  Mount  Zion,  beau- 
tiful for  situation,  the  joy  of  the  whole  earth,  is  as  when  God 
overthrew^  Sodom  and  Gomorrah ! 

They  were  the  church  of  God,  his  chosen  and  peculiar 
people.  But  the  sovereignty  which  chose  them  at  first  had  de- 
termined to  reject  them  for  their  sins.  In  vain  might  they 
plead  their  former  privileges  ;  these  only  aggravated  their  con- 
demnation. Much  had  been  given  them,  and  of  them  much 
was  required.     They  possessed  the  law,  but  this  they  had  v1l>- 


AXD  ITS  LESSOXS.  173 

latecl.  They  hau  tlie  ordinances  of  God's  service,  l)ut  these  they 
had  so  polluted  by  their  hypocrisy  that  they  were  hateful  in 
liis  sight :  since  we  hear  him  saying,  in  the  first  chapter  of 
Isaiah,  "  To  what  purpose  is  the  multitude  of  your  sacrifices 
unto  me,  saith  the  Lord,  I  am  full,  satiated  with  the  burnt  offer- 
ings of  lambs  and  the  fat  of  fed  beasts.  Bring  no  more  vi\in 
oblations.  Incense  is  an  abomination  unto  me.  It  is  iniquity, 
even  the  solemn  meeting!"  They  had  been  adopted  into  his 
family,  and  obtained  the  endearing  name  of  children  ;  but  they 
were  wayward  and  disobedient  children.  *'  I  hav&  nourished 
and  brought  up  children,  saith  the  Lord,  and  they  have  re- 
belled against  me."  He  was  their  king,  but  they  had  sought 
other  lords  to  have  dominion  over  them.  Prophets  had  pro- 
claimed God's  truth  among  them,  but  the  prophets  they  had 
put  to  death  ;  and  when  the  last  messenger  from  heaven  came 
down  among  them,  him  they  had  taken  and  with  cruel  hands 
had  crucified  and  slain.  Thus  every  privilege  which  they  could 
plead  as  evidence  of  God's  former  love  only  established  more 
incontrovertibly  the  certainty  of  his  present  wrath.  The  good- 
ness of  God  had  not  led  them  to  repentance,  and  the  only  al- 
ternative remaining  was,  that  they  had  been  treasuring  up 
wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath.  Their  crimes  had  been  accu- 
mulating for  centuries,  till  the  rejection  of  the  Saviour  sealed 
their  ruin ;  and  the  wrath  which  had  been  so  long  gathering 
above  their  heads  was  at  last  poured  upon  them  to  the 
uttermost. 

We  have  said,  that  much  instruction  may  be  derived  from 
the  rejection  of  the  Jews.  We  see  here  that  the  sovereignty 
of  God,  however  mysterious  to  us  in  its  nature,  is  so  far  in- 
telligible in  its  operations  that  it  never  protects  sin.  The 
Jews  were  an  elect  people,  and  yet  they  were  cut  oflT  for  un- 
belief. Ifthenauyof  us  be  trusting  that  we  were  once  the 
people  of  God,  and  therefore  w^ill  always  belong  to  that  fa- 
vored company,  while  we  continue  in  sin,  we  are  deceived. 
Let  it  be  never  so  certain,  that  you  are  one  of  God's  elect,  yet 
it  cannot  be  more  certain  than  the  truth,  that  if  you  continue 
in  your  sins,  where  God  and  Christ  are  you  can  never  come. 


174  PAUL'S  ZEAL  FOR  ISRAEL, 

Let  the  formal  and  heartless  professor  of  religion  then  take 
warning  from  the  rejection  of  the  Jews.  Remember  that 
thou  art  only  a  Gentile,  and  not  of  the  true  olive-tree.  If  then 
the  true  olive  branches  were  broken  off,  "because  of  unbelief 
they  were  broken  off,  and  thou  standest  by  faith  ;  be  not  high- 
minded  but  fear."  The  Lord's  jealousy  burneth  hottest  nearest 
to  his  throne.  He  cannot  be  deceived,  he  will  not  be  mocked. 
"To  the  wicked,  God  saith,  What  hast  thou  to  do,  to  declare 
my  statutes,  or  that  thou  shouldst  take  my  covenants  in  thy 
mouth  ?"  Thy  services  are  all  an  abomination,  thy  i3rayers  are 
mockery,  thine  outward  profession  is  hateful  in  his  sight. 
Thou  moves t  amidst  Christians,  as  if  a  dead  and  putrid  corpse 
should  rise  from  its  grave,  and  stalk  forth  amidst  living  men, 
only  the  more  revolting  for  its  human  form,  and  its  horrid 
mimicry  of  real  life. 

The  church  of  God,  as  a  whole  and  in  all  its  parts,  may  well 
take  warning  from  God's  dealings  with  his  ancient  people.  God 
will  not  endure  corruption  in  his  church.  He  will  hide  his  face. 
He  will  abandon  her  to  her  enemies,  and  if,  after  many  reproofs, 
she  shall  still  remain  unamended,  he  will  give  her  up  forever. 
Say  not,  "The  temple  of  the  Lord,  the  temple  of  the  Lord,  the 
temple  of  the  Lord  are  we."  God  can  erect  another  temple, 
and  call  another  people,  who  will  worship  him  more  spiritually, 
and  serve  him  more  faithfully.  "  Though  thou  wert  the  signet 
on  his  right  hand,"  as  w^as  said  of  Coniah,  the  son  of  Jehoiakim, 
"  though  thou  wert  the  signet  on  his  right  hand,  yet  he  would 
pluck  thee  thence."  Say  not,  What  will  become  of  the  glory  of 
the  Lord.  He  can  promote  his  glory  in  your  condemnation,  as 
well  as  in  your  salvation.  "He  hath  made  even  the  wicked, 
against  the  day  of  his  power."  How  could  religion  exist  if 
Jerusalem  were  destroyed  ?  might  the  Jew  reason.  Will  not 
the  heathen  triumph  ?  Yes,  but  in  the  midst  of  their  triumph 
God  is  raising  up  a  people  to  serve  him,  from  among  their  own 
families  and  friends.  The  Roman  6agle  is  soaring  high  over 
Jerusalem.  The  Roman  torch  is  firing  its  sacred  temple,  and, 
as  the  conflagration  rapidly  extends,  and  the  broad  sheets  of 
flame  burst  from  its  dizzy  summit,  and  curl  upward  to  the 


AND   ITS   LESSONS.  1T5 

sky,  terribly  magnificent,  the  shout  of  pagan  triumph  is  heard, 
above  the  clash  of  armor  and  the  shrieks  of  the  dying,  to  pro- 
claim that  the  God  of  Abraham  has  lost  his  power  to  save. 
"But  .why  do  the  heathen  rage,  and  the  Gentiles  imagine  a  vain 
thing.  He  that  sitteth  in  the  heavens  shall  laugh,  the  Almighty 
sliall  hold  them  in  derision."  She  that  persecuted  the  prophets 
is  fallen,  and  prophecy  is  fulfilled  ;  she  that  rejected  the  Saviour 
is  in  ruins,  and  thus  we  know  that  the  son  of  man  has  come 
to  establish  his  kingdom  upon  earth ;  a  kingdom  which  shall 
extend  beyond  the  limits  of  the  Roman  empire,  and  take  in  all 
nations.  Tiie  mistress  of  the  world  shall  soon  own  his  mild 
dominion,  and  on  the  walls  of  the  seven-hilled  city  shall  be 
planted  the  standard  of  the  cross.  The  temple  hath  fallen, 
within  whose  narrow  walls  the  worshippers  of  a  single  nation 
were  wont  to  pay  their  vows,  and  present  their  offerings  j  but  an- 
other has  risen  more  glorious  far,  whose  broad  foundation  is  the 
great  globe  itself,  whose  garniture  is  the  handy-work  of  God, 
and  within  whose  spacious  walls  are  gathered  the  unnumbered 
millions  of  God's  elect,  from  every  nation  under  heaven,  bring- 
ing incense  and  a  pure  offering,  a  holy  and  a  spiritual  worship, 
approaching  to  the  throne  of  the  majesty  on  high,  not  with  the 
blood  of  bulls  and  goats,  but  with  the  precious  blood  of  the 
Son  of  God. 


VI. 

THE   QUESTION  AKD  ITS  ANSWER. 


Acts,  xvi.  30. — "  Sirs,  What  must  I  do  to  be  saved  ?" 


About  the  year  of  our  Lord  53  or  54,  two  obscure,  unknown 
travellers  arrived  at  Philippi,  one  of  the  principal  cities  of  Ma- 
cedonia. They  had  travelled  far.  Having  embarked  at  Antioch 
in  Syria,  and  passed  by  a  circuitous  route  over  sea  and  land,  they 
had  reached,  at  length,  this  celebrated  city,  where  the  Asiatic 
foreigners  for  the  first  time  placed  their  feet  on  European  soil. 
By  tracing  their  course  over  the  map,  you  will  find  that  their 
route  lay  through  many  of  the  scenes  rendered  familiar  to  our 
boyhood  by  the  history  and  fables  of  antiquity — the  soft  waters 
of  the  iEgean,  the  mild  climate  of  the  East,  along  the  volup- 
tuous shores  of  Asia  Minor,  and  amidst  the  fertile  and  luxu- 
rious islands  of  the  adjacent  sea — over  countries  where  the 
mighty  conquerors  of  old  fought  their  battles,  and  won  their 
renown,  and  the  shadowy  heroes  of  an  earlier  and  fabulous  age 
performed  their  prodigies  of  valor.  And  their  fortunes  were 
as  various,  and  changed  as  rapidly  as  the  scenes  through  which 
they  passed.  At  one  time  hooted  by  the  rabble,  at  another 
caressed  by  the  gi-eat;  now  worshipped  as  deities,  now 
hissed  and  stoned  by  vagabonds  ;  now  assaulted  by  the  popu- 
lace with  the  insane  fury  of  a  fanatical  mob  ;  now  seized  by 
magistrates  as  disturbers  of  the  peace,  rudely  rebuked,  cruelly 
scourged,  condemned,  imprisoned.  And  now  these  friendless 
wanderers,  safe  from  the  dangers  of  the  sea  and  the  fury  of 
persecutors,  "  from  the  noise  of  the  waves  and  the  tumult  of  the 
people,"  have  reached  a  strange  city  on  another  continent.  Is 
it  that  they  may  seek  an  end  to  their  wanderings,  find  repose 


THE   QUESTION   AND   ITS   ANSWER.  177 

from  labors,  refuge  from  sufferings  and  foes  ?  Ah,  if  tliat  had 
been  their  object,  Christian  friends,  what  would  you  and  I  now 
have  been?  The  history  of  the  world  would  probably  have 
been  reversed,  and  the  dark  night  of  idolatrous  superstition 
slill  have  rested  on  the  nations. 

Philippi  had  received,  before,  many  a  distinguished,  many  a 
royal  visitant.  Repaired  and  beautified  by  Philip  of  Macedon, 
colonized  subsequently  by  Julius  Ciesar,  rendered  famous  above 
all  by  that  memorable  battle  in  which  Rome's  liberties  re- 
ceived their  last  death-blow  from  her  own  children,  and  the 
hand  of  Brutus  that  struck  down  the  tyrant  in  the  capitol,  was 
turned  in  despair  upon  himself.  But  signalized  as  she  was  by 
great  events  and  illustrious  visitors,  it  may  be  doubted,  whether, 
of  all  the  mighty  received  within  her  walls — from  the  youthful 
prince  of  Macedon  to  that  prototype  of  all  demagogues  and  ty- 
rants, the  wily  and  supple  Cassar,  and  that  last  relic  of  Roman 
virtue  and  greatness,  the  stern  incorruptible  Brutus — there 
had  ever  approached  a  man  who  could  bear  comparison  with 
that  unknown  Jew,  with  bald  head  and  eagle  eye  and  diminu- 
tive frame,  who  ^passed,  at  first  unnoticed,  along  the  streets  of 
Philippi.  There  is  we  grant  no  universal  test  of  greatness.  But 
if  we  measure  the  compass  of  this  man's  mind  by  the  largeness 
of  his  views  or  the  elevation  of  his  character,  by  the  vastness 
of  his  designs  or  their  magnificent  accomplishment,  by  the 
benefits  he  conferred  upon  mankind  or  the  influence  he  has 
wielded  over  the  opinions  and  destiny  of  the  race  through  suc- 
cessive countries  and  in  distant  lands  ;  v;h;itever  it  may  be  that 
we  most  admire,  whether  dazzling  splendor  of  bold  and  vigorous 
imagery,  or  burning  ardor  of  deep  and  intense  emotion,  or  tlie 
inexorable  logic  of  close  and  compact  reasoning,  or  all  these 
harmoniously  combined  and  wielded  by  a  manly  eloquence, 
which,  whether  we  judge  from  the  effects  produced,  or  speci- 
mens still  remaining,  must  be  considered  almost  perfect  in  its 
kind ;  in  whatever  light  we  may  view  the  apostle,  he  nmst  be 
acknowledged  to  possess  all  the  distinguishing  attributes  of 
real  greatness. 

Oh,  ye  enthusiastic  admirers  of  human  greatness,  who  fall 


178  THE   QUESTION  AND   ITS  ANSWER. 

down  in  thouglitless  adoration  before  it,  when  its  record  is 
blood,  and  its  monuments  pyramids  of  human  skulls  ;  ye  wor- 
shippers of  the  great  manslayers  of  the  world,  who  wail  and 
shriek  over  the  battle-field,  and  then  erect  an  altar  to  the 
demon  of  the  fight — come,  behold  a  man,  in  genius  as  brilliant, 
as  rich  in  accomplishments,  far  more  comprehensive  in  his 
schemes,  who,  to  splendor  of  intellect,  added  the  sublimity  of 
moral  excellence  ;  grasp,  if  you  can,  the  stupendous  plan  that 
filled  and  expanded  his  soul — nothing  less  than  to  revolu- 
tionize the  whole  moral  and  social  condition  of  mankind, 
and  to  send  abroad  the  spirit  of  a  new  life  through  all  its  fam- 
ilies. Follow  him,  as  he  speeds  his  way  on  this  amazing  er- 
rand, passing  from  city  to  city,  from  land  to  land,  meeting  re- 
proach, derision,  persecution,  all  unmoved,  perilling  his  life  by 
sea  and  land,  baring  his  bosom  to  the  storm,  his  back  to  the 
scourge,  offering  his  limbs  to  fetters,  his  body  to  the  cross,  and 
after  he  had  fought  for  years  the  battles  of  mankind,  and  subju- 
gated whole  nations  to  the  truth,  going  down  to  the  grave  with 
the  shout  of  victory  on  his  tongue  ;  a  victory  stained  by  no  hu- 
man blood  except  his  own,  and  leaving  a  name  revered  through 
successive  generations,  by  millions  who  never  heard  the  name  of  • 
Caesar,  or  of  Alexander,  with  a  glory  ever  widening  and  bright- 
ening, as  the  progress  of  civilization  and  religion  increases  the 
numbers  of  those  who  can  understand  and  appreciate  real 
greatness  of  the  highest  order. 

Such  was  the  man  that  lay  that  night  in  chains  at  Phihppi, 
thrust  away  into  the  innermost  prison,  in  the  darkest  dungeon, 
with  the  vilest  culprits,  his  feet  j^inned  to  the  floor,  his  back 
gashed  wdth  w^ounds  by  the  lead  of  the  merciless  scourge.  Did 
he  repine  at  his  condition,  rail  at  the  ingratitude  and  wicked- 
ness of  men,  and  sadly  abandon  his  high  mission?  Far  other- 
wise. At  midnight  the  prisoners  hear  strange  sounds  for  that 
prison-house,  not  a  voice  of  wailing  or  blasphemy,  but  glad 
praises  of  the  Most  High ;  and  soon  tar  other  sounds  shall  burst 
upon  their  ears,  for  the  God  of  hosts  has  heard  the  prayer  of  his 
servants,  and  sent  his  angel  to  relieve  them;  and  the  earth 
trembles  at  liis  approach,  the  prison  walls  totter,  the  dooi-s  fly 


THE   QUESTIOX   AND   ITS  ANSWER.  179 

open,  fetters  burst  loose.  Well  might  the  agitated  jailer  ex- 
claim, amid  these  manifestations  of  the  presence  and  power  of 
the  Almighty,  "  What  must  I  do  to  be  saved  ?" 

Startled  at  midnight  from  his  slumbers,  by  these  fearful  in- 
dications of  the  present  and  angry  God,  he  springs  forth  pale 
and  trembling  from  his  couch,  and,  falling  at  the  feet  of  the 
apostles,  earnestly  exclaims,  "Sirs,  what  must  I  do  to  be  saved  ?" 
Never  did  there  fall  from  human  lips  a  more  solemn  or  impor- 
tant question  ;  never  burst  from  agonized  bosom  of  man,  rent 
by  anxious  and  conflicting  emotions,  inquiry  of  more  fearful 
and  tremendous  import.  Indeed,  it  is  the  question  of  questions, 
the  great  question  for  every  man  that  has  a  soul  to  be  saved 
or  lost.  It  is  a  question  which  only  man  can  ask  and  answer. 
Brutes  have  no  souls  to  save.  Angels  are  already  saved.  Dev- 
ils are  already  damned.  It  must  be  answered  soon  ;  or  it 
will  be  answered  too  late,  by  the  last  trumpet,  by  the  wailings 
of  the  danmed,  amidst  the  lire  of  Tophet,  the  shrieks,  impre- 
cations, and  blasphemies  of  lost  spirits.  To  be  honestly  asked, 
deeply,  solemnly  pondered,  profoundly  studied,  faithfully,  affec- 
tionately answered — oli,  well  might  the  loftiest  intellect  of  man 
turn  aside  from  all  human  speculations,*;  and  gather  up  its 
brightened  and  invigorated  powers,  and  concentrate  all  in  one 
burning  focus  on  this  high  question,  the  question  of  transcend- 
ent and  immeasurable  interest.  To  comprehend  it,  if  possible, 
in  all  its  bearings,  in  all  its  height,  length,  breadth,  and  depth, 
and  urge  it  home  upon  dying  sinners  with  all  the  solemn  fervor 
of  one  himself  sweeping  along  with  them  to  judgment,  with 
prayers  and  entreaties  and  many  tears,  is  the  duty  of  every 
minister  of  God.  For  of  all  the  innumerable  questions  which, 
from  the  foundation  of  the  world,  have  agitated  the  minds  of 
men,  and  called  forth  the  mightiest  energies  and  fiercest  con- 
flicts in  the  senate  and  the  field,  there  is  none  so  vast  in  its 
grandeur  and  importance,  there  is  none  which  sweeps  over  so 
boundless  a  field  of  thought,  involves  such  mighty  interests,  is 
followed  by  such  stupendous  consequences,  bears  with  it  such 
appalling  responsibilities,  and  so  appeals  to  the  hopes  and  (ears 
of  every  erring  and  dying  man. 


180  THE    QUESTION  AND   ITS  ANSWER. 

For,  remember  it  is  the  salvation  of  the  soul.  And  to  you  I 
appeal,  O  man  most  steei:^ed  in  sensuality  and  worldliness, 
most  maddened  with  love  of  money  or  of  honor,  if  only  one 
gleam  of  rationality  remains  !  I  ask  of  you,  if  in  the  whole 
circle  of  human  interests,  the  whole  compass  of  human  thought, 
there  can  be  any  thing  to  be  compared  with  this?  What 
questions  and  interests  on  which  statesmen  debate,  and  heroes 
fight,  and  philosophers  reason,  can  be  compared  with  this  ? 
Suppose  all  for  which  they  contend  granted  you,  that  the  glory 
of  all  combined  rested  on  you,  the  laurels  of  a  hundred  victo- 
ries on  your  head,  the  sceptre  of  universal  empire  in  your  hand, 
the  splendor  of  exalted  genius  and  learning  around  you,  applause 
attending  your  steps,  everywhere  the  mysteries  of  nature  un- 
veiled, all  knowledge  yours — what  will  all  avail  if  your  soul 
be  not  saved  ?  If  the  wrath  of  God  hang  darkly  over  you, 
what  are  the  smiles  of  man,  of  milhons?  Of  what  avail  are 
those  large  capacities,  rich  endowments,  mighty  powers  of 
thought  and  feeling,  if  they  be  only  made  fitter  subjects  of 
condemnation,  mightier  piles  for  eternal  burning?  And  now 
permit  me  to  warn  you,  that  the  awful  probability  is,  your 
soul  will  be  lost ;  that  it  is  already  in  imminent  peril,  and 
chiefly  from  insensibility. 

But  perhaps  your  reply  to  all  this  will  be,  that  you  see  no 
danger  !  We  seize  your  own  objection,  and  tell  you  that  this 
insensibility  to  the  danger  is  the  most  fearful  token  of  your 
coming  damnation.  Something  must  be  done,  and  you  are 
doing  nothing,  and  will  do  nothing.  If  the  Gospel  be  hid,  it 
is  hid  to  those  who  are  lost.  Heaven  is  a  prize  for  which  we 
must  run,  a  crown  for  which  we  must  fight,  and  yet  you  stand 
idly  indolent  all  the  day  long.  This  deadly  insensibility  is  the 
"worst  symptom.  Could  the  physicitm  rouse  the  patient  from 
that  lethargy,  he  were  safe.  But  that  sleep  is  the  sleep  of 
death.  Could  we  but  waken  you  to  a  sense  of  your  misery  and 
ruin,  there  were  some  hope.  But  all  our  efforts  are  vain  : 
Sabbath  after  Sabbath,  month  after  month,  you  sit  in  God's 
house,  beneath  warnings  and  invitations,  and  heed  not.  All 
the  interes's  of  immortality  are  at  stake;  life  is  wearing  away, 


THE   QUESTION  AXD   ITS   ANSWER.  181 

death  hurrying  on,  judgment  just  at  hand;  yet  all  is  safe  with 
you.  We  tell  you  of  an  angry  God,  of  a  fiery  perdition,  of 
endless  torments,  and  you  sit  as  if  these  were  an  idle  tale. 
Nay,  as  if  to  add  insult  to  past  sin,  you  come  into  God's  own 
house  to  brave  his  anger.  Did  you  see  the  physician  turn 
mournfully  away  from  that  dying  patient?  He  is  sinking  into 
delirium,  and  dreams  that  all  is  safe.  Living  in  the  govern- 
ment of  a  holy  God,  and  habitually  sinning — yet  safe ;  feeding 
on  his  bounty,  and  spurning  his  hand — yet  safe  ;  his  eye  fixed, 
on  you,  his  presence  around  you — yet  safe ;  his  sword  sus- 
pended over  you,  judgment  pronounced,  denunciation  uttered — 
yet  safe;  his  power  pledged — yet  safe.  Ah  !  young  man,  that 
flowery  path  is  dangerous.  It  leads  to  death.  But  ah !  the 
sinner  will  be  safe  when  the  bolts  of  his  prison-house  have  shut 
Iiim  in ;  will  be  safe,  where  no  Christians  annoy;  safe  where 
no  Spirit,  no  Gospel,  no  hope  intrudes ;  and  when  he  shall  be 
lodged  there,  damned  spirits  shall  raise  their  shout  of  exulta- 
tion, and  say  safe,  safe,  forever  safe  !     Oh  !  horrible  safety ! 

But  who  is  he  that  stands  before  us  there,  amidst  the  solemn 
stillness  of  this  midnight  hour ;  with  these  words  of  anguish 
on  his  lips,  and  this  unsj^eakable  terror  in  his  heart.  We  have 
not  the  story  of  his  life,  nor  the  record  of  his  death.  His  birth 
and  burial,  lineage,  station,  and  fortunes,  family,  friends,  hopes, 
fears,  enjoyments,  sufierings,  disasters,  successes,  are  alike  un- 
known. Of  all  that  he  thought,  felt,  purposed,  desired,  or 
achieved,  there  is  no  memorial.  What  are  all  these  in  the 
estimate  of  the  Almighty  ?  Only  a  dim  and  shadowy  form  is 
seen  rising  above  the  waste  of  ages.  A  mysterious  voice  is 
heard  amidst  the  silence  of  centuries.  It  is  the  form  and  voice 
of  a  man  like  ourselves,  with  a  guilty  conscience  :ind  a  deathless 
spirit,  and  all  the  fearful  elements  of  our  fallen  but  immortal 
nature,  crying  out,  in  the  agony  of  his  soul,  "  What  must  I  do 
to  be  saved  ?" 

Never  did  more  important  question  burst  from  lips  of  man, 
never  did  question  receive  a  more  direct,  simple,  or  satisfactory 
reply,  "  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt  ba 
saved."     You  can  do  nothing  of  yourselves,  can  make  no  at*  nc- 


182  THE   QUESTION"   AND   ITS   ANSWER. 

ment  for  past  sin,  work  no  deliverance  from  its  future  power. 
Salvation  is  not  an  achievement  but  a  gift,  not  of  works  but 
of  grace,  oiFered  freely  for  your  acceptance,  not  to  be  pur- 
chased by  your  merit.  Christ  is  our  justification,  and  Christ 
our  sanctification  ;  Christ  without  and  Christ  within  us.  Clirist 
without,  the  object  of  our  adoring  love,  becoming,  in  that  very 
act  of  believing  adoration,  the  Christ  within,  "the  hope  of 
glory."  The  Christ  without,  removing  the  guilt  of  sin ;  the 
Christ  within,  subduing  by  his  presence  its  controlling  power, 
and  freeing  us  from  its  pollution. 

Christ  is  the  light  of  the  world.  Wouldst  thou  be  saved 
from  the  darkness  of  spiritual  death  ?  Let  the  eye  of  faith  be 
opened  to  receive  that  light ;  let  day  dawn,  and  the  day-star 
arise  upon  thy  soul,  and  that  midnight  blackness  shall  vanish 
away.  It  needs  no  will,  no  agency,  no  work  of  thine  to  give 
it  efficacy.  It  works  by  its  own  inherent  energy,  and  seeks 
no  aid  from  man.  Let  but  the  eye  of  faith  be  open  to  receive 
it,  and  by  its  own  mysterious  power  and  adaptation  to  thy 
nature,  the  grandeur  and  glory  of  a  universe,  before  invisible, 
shall  burst  in  all  their  glad,  living  reality  upon  thee. 

Christ  is  the  bread  of  heaven.  Xo  work  or  effort  of  thine 
own  will  give  thee  nourishment,  or  add  vital  power  to  this 
food.  Let  it  only  be  received  within  thy  system;  it  will  blend 
with  all  the  elements  of  thy  being ;  become  mysteriously  part 
and  portion  of  thyself;  mingle  with  the  whole  flowing  circula- 
tion ;  reach  each  part  and  function,  and  be  found  a  real  living 
power  in  them  all. 

Christ  is  the  great  physician  and  sovereign  remedy  for  the 
disease  of  sin.  What  shall  you  do  to  be  saved  from  this  deadly 
malady  ?  'No  power,  will,  effort  of  thine  own  ;  no  spasmodic 
agitation  of  all  the  elements  within  thee,  would  give  it  healing 
efficacy.  It  works  by  an  efficacy  all  its  OAvn.  Let  it  be  re- 
ceived within  thee;  each  diseased  action  is  arrested  ;  each  sus- 
pended function  restored;  the  warm  blood  flows  in  glad  cur- 
rents through  every  vein  and  artery,  and  from  each  gland  and 
duct  and  capillaiy  vessel,  through  ten  thousand  channels,  is 
distilled  perpetually  a  nameless  joy. 


THE   QUESTION   AND   ITS   ANSWER.  183 

Now  faith  is  the  "  open  eye  ;"  not  the  object,  nor  the  light 
wliich  reveals  the  object,  but  the  avenue  through  which  light 
streams  in  upon,  the  soul.  It  does  not  create  light  or  objects  ; 
yet  were  the  avenue  closed,  both  would  for  us  be  as  though 
they  existed  not.  Hence  it  has  all  the  mystery  of  a  new  crea- 
tion, as,  when  the  blind  man  first  beholds  the  light  of  day,  a 
new  universe  springs  into  existence  all  around  him. 

Faith  is  neither  food  that  nourishes,  nor  the  remedy  that 
heals,  but  only  the  organ  that  receives  them  both,  and  brings 
them  in  living  contact  with  the  system.  Light,  food,  remedy, 
all  are  without — objective.  They  need  no  aid  of  ours  to  give 
them  existence  or  efficacy ;  they  need  only  the  open  eye,  the 
recipient  organ,  the  living  contact,' to  reveal  and  exercise  their 
appropriate  efficacy.  "  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
thou  shalt  be  saved." 

Consider  first  the  sublime  simplicity  of  this  answer.  This 
simple  grandeur  characterizes  all  God's  works.  Man,  uncertain 
of  his  ends,  and  limited  in  resources,  multiplies  his  instrumental- 
ities, employs  complicated  apparatus,  cumbrous  machinery,  a 
circuitous  process.  God,  sure  of  the  result,  moves  directly  to- 
ward his  object,  and  accompUshes  the  largest  results  by  the 
simplest  agencies :  by  the  combination  of  a  few  simple  elements 
produces  all  that  infinite  variety  of  forms,  hues,  and  properties 
which  we  behold  in  nature:  by  one  single  law,  that  stupendous 
harmony  in  the  movements  of  the  worlds  above.  Gaze  on 
those  ten  thousand  worlds  that  glitter  in  our  nocturnal  heav- 
ens ;  look  through  the  telescope,  till  those  thousands  are  con- 
verted into  millions,  and  nebula?  after  nebulae  are  resolved  into 
increasing  millions ;  watch  the  planets  in  their  varying  positions, 
comets  in  their  eccentric  career,  then  ask  what  rare  combina- 
tion of  forces,  w^hat  intricate  and  complicated  apparatus  keeps 
each  in  its  appropriate  place,  brings  each  at  its  appointed  sea- 
son. Through  all  that  vast  domain  one  simple  and  majestic 
law  presides.  The  law  of  gravitation  retains  planets  and 
comets  in  their  orbits,  and  guides  the  sun  in  his  flaming  path 
through  space. 

And  when  the  great  apostle  lifts  his  eye  to  that  glorious 


184  THE   QUESTION   AXD   ITS   ANSWER. 

galaxy  of  worthies,  shining  most  brightly  in  the  darkest  night 
of  affliction,  and  points  us  to  their  radiant  career,  as  they  move 
serenely  on,  "  subduing  kingdoms,  working  righteousness, 
stopping  the  mouths  of  lions,  quenching  the  violence  of  fire, 
valiant  in  fight,  turning  to  flight  the  armies  of  the  aliens" — 
what,  we  may  ask,  impelled  them  ouAvard  in  their  brilliant 
career,  and  sustained  them  amidst  surrounding  perils  ?  "  Was 
not  this  their  victory — even  faith." 

When  Luther  threw  down  the  gauntlet  to  pope  and  emperor, 
and  stood  before  the  diet,  sole  advocate  of  a  condemned  and 
accursed  faith ;  when  he  fearlessly  exclaimed,  "  Though  there 
were  as  many  devils  at  Worms  as  there  are  tiles  on  the  houses, 
I  would  go;"  when  Chalmers  more  recently  marched  calmly 
forth  at  the  head  of  Scotland's  free  church  (four  hundred  men), 
leaving  behind  tiiem  congregations,  homes,  each  earthly  com- 
fort, for  "  testimony  of  Jesus,"  it  was  faith  that  impelled  and 
sustained  them  all.  And  all  those  mighty  men  who  in  every 
age  have  stamped  deep  upon  their  generation  the  impression  of 
their  character,  and  lived  in  perpetual  conflict,  have  been  men 
of  faith,  have  walked  with  calm  and  assured  step  amidst  un- 
seen realities,  as  amidst  the  visible,  palj^able  things  of  the 
world  around.  The  broad  sky  above  was  not  a  more  real 
canopy,  than  the  unseen  and  overshadowing  majesty  of  God  ; 
nor  could  the  solid  earth  beneath  give  firmer  footing  than  the 
unfailing  promise  of  God.  They  gazed,  with  steadfast  eye, 
deep  down  into  the  abyss  of  woe,  till  all  human  torture  had  lost 
its  terrors;  walked  amidst  the  glories  and  bliss  of  God's  para- 
dise alone,  till  all  earthly  splendor  was  stripped  of  its  power 
to  charm ;  fought  face  to  face  in  actual  warfare  with  powers  of 
darkness,  and  issuing  fi-om  closet  to  pulpit,  fresh  from  solemn 
meditations,  victorious  from  terrible  conflicts,  their  words  of 
exhortation  were  like  a  voice  from  heaven,  their  tones  of  warn- 
ing like  the  trump  of  God. 

And  we  remark,  in  passing,  that  the  necessity  and  value  of 
faith  are  not  coulined  to  religion.  Tlie  laAV  which  operates  in 
yonder  farther  heavens,  operates  on  the  surface  of  the  earth. 
The  same  law  which  shapes  the  orbit  of  the  planet,  bends  the 


THE   QUESTION  AND   ITS   ANSWER.  185 

curve  of  the  descending  stone  thrown  by  a  school-boy's  hand. 
Objects,  spliere,  direction,  are  different,  the  general  principle  is 
the  same.  "It  is  impossible,  v/ithont  faith,  to  please  God," 
says  the  Bible.  Without  faith  it  is  impossible  to  achieve  any 
thing  for  the  good  of  man,  or  even  to  continue  our  own  exist- 
ence for  a  day.  It  is  faith  tliat  nerves  the  patriot's  arm,  faith 
in  his  country's  destiny,  in  the  triumph  of  right :  faith  that  sus- 
tains the  enthusiastic  ardor  of  pursuit :  faith  in  the  distant  and 
unseen,  which  vividly  portrays  in  the  coming  future  the  har- 
vest that  shall  reward  all  present  toil.  And  those  men  of  des- 
tiny, the  Napoleons  and  Caesars  of  the  world,  was  it  not  faith 
in  themselves,  in  their  own  powers  and  fortune,  that  gave  such 
superhuman  energy  to  tlieir  genius  ?  Even  the  present  Eni- 
pei-or,  we  are  told,  never  doubted,  from  earliest  infancy,  or  in 
greatest  peril,  that  he  should  one  day  wear  the  imperial  dia- 
dem of  France.  And  what  is  each  anticipation  of  the  future, 
and  each  preparation  made  for  ourselves  or  others,  our  expec- 
tation of  to-morrow,  even,  but  an  exercise  of  faith  in  the  con- 
stancy of  nature's  laws,  and  the  regularity  of  nature's  course  ? 

Here,  then,  we  have  the  great  principle  pervading  the  whole 
of  the  divine  administration.  We  have  a  present  temporal  in- 
terest at  stake,  that  cannot  be  secured  w^ithout  the  exercise  of 
faith  in  the  laws  of  natural  government,  which  passes  beyond 
the  sphere  of  sense  and  reasoning,  grasps  tlie  future  firmly,  and 
gives  to  the  distant  and  unseen  all  the  power  of  visible  and 
palpable  realities.  If  we  have  an  eternal  interest  to  secure, 
is  it  unreasonable  to  suppose  that  this  may  demand  a  corre- 
sponding faith  in  the  laws  and  facts  of  moral  government,  and 
that  it  brings  its  motives  and  elements  from  that  higher  world 
and  future  existence  ? 

2d.  Faith,  sim[)le  in  its  nature,  is  manifold  in  its  operations 
and  manifestations.  This  has  perplexed  the  minds  of  theolo- 
gians, and  started  many  questions  as  to  the  doctrine  of  salva- 
tion by  faith  alone.  Is  it  faith  united  wdth  love,  obedience, 
prayer,  hope  ?  I  answer,  these  are  only  varied  manifestations 
of  one  and  the  same  principle  of  faith.  It  is  faith  which  loves, 
hopes,  adores,  obeys.     Present  in  all,  pervading  all,  vivifying 


186  THE   QUESTION  AND   ITS   ANSWER. 

all,  the  gmncl  essential  element  in  all.  We  behold  the  same 
in  nature  all  around  us  and  are  not  perplexed — perpetual 
change  of  form,  while  the  substance  remains  the  same.  Water 
flowing  in  the  stream,  congealing  into  ice,  the  spray  that  curls 
above  the  cataract,  the  mist  that  hangs  in  the  mountain's  brow, 
white  clouds  piled  upon  the  horizon  or  floating  over  the  sky, 
the  black  thunder-cloud  that  sweeps  careering  before  the  tem- 
pest— all  these  are  water  still.  Nay — to  borrow  in  part  an 
illustration  from  an  ancient  father — pervading  all  nature,  it  is 
red  in  the  rose,  purple  in  the  violet,  white  in  the  lily,  green  in 
the  growing  grass,  and  in  the  great  bow  of  heaven  reflects  in 
gorgeous  coloring  every  variety  of  hue.  It  is  an  opinion  to- 
ward which  all  modern  discovery  is  rapidly  converging,  that 
the  mild  hght  of  day,  the  gentle  electricity  diflused  unseen  and 
unfelt  through  all  nature,  the  fire  that  bursts  from  the  volcano, 
and  the  lightning  that  flashes  from  the  sky,  are  all  a  single 
element  in  various"  manifestations,  and  reaching  farther  still 
into  distant  worlds,  that  Avhen  suns  are  kindled  up,  or  suns  go 
out,  it  is  due  to  the  presence  or  absence  of  this  simple  element. 

Even  so  we  say  faith  is  the  light  of  knowledge,  the  warmth 
of  love,  the  ardor  of  zeal,  the  gentle  radiance  that  sheds  a  quiet 
beauty  over  the  ordinary  Christian  life,  and  the  deep,  inward 
fire,  glowing  in  the  bosom,  which  ever  moves  the  great  heroes 
of  trutli,  and  lifts  them  in  their  mountain  grandeur  and  granite 
strength  high  above  their  fellows.  Nay,  faith  is  the  Chris- 
tian's life.  He  lives  by  faith,  walks  by  faith,  by  faith  wrestles 
with  principalities  and  powers.  In  all  his  battles  with,  the 
powers  of  darkness,  faith  supplies  the  shield  and  wields  tbe 
sword.  Faith  adores  an  unseen  God,  hopes  for  an  unseen 
heaven.     Faith  unites  to  an  unseen  Saviour. 

3d.  This  vital  imion  with  the  Saviour  is  the  grand  essential 
characteristic  of  Christian  faith,  which  not  only  constitutes  it 
the  sinew  and  substance  of  all  Christian  virtues,  but  the  ground 
at  once  of  our  justification  and  sanctification :  makes  Christ  our 
wisdom,  righteousness,  sanctification,  and  redemption.  It  is 
strange  that  this  essential  characteristic  has  been  so  much  over- 
looked by  Christian  theologians,  and  that  men  of  high  author- 


THI-]   QUESTION   AND   ITS   ANSWER.  187 

ity,  bewildered  by  a  misty  metaphysics,  should  have  sought  to 
lower  this  sublimest  mystery  in  the  Chiistian  life,  this  greatest 
fact  in  Christian  consciousness,  to  the  level  of  an  ordinary 
exercise  of  the  human  understanding.  "  Faith,"  they  argue, 
"is  only  another  name  for  belief;"  belief  is  a  "word  that  ex- 
presses a  well-known  act  of  the  understanding  in  view  of 
evidence.  Christian  faith  in  Christ,  therefore,  they  conclude, 
is  tlie  same  in  nature  as  belief  in  any  other  fact  or  facts — con- 
cerning Caesar,  Xapoleon,  Alexander.  I  cannot  stay  now  to 
analyze  this  fanfaronade  of  folly.  Perhaps  it  would  be  difficult 
to  collect,  in  so  small  a  compass,  more  of  folly  and  heresy  than 
is  contained  in  this  stereotyped  phraseology,  now  crystallized, 
and  almost  consecrated  in  so  many  of  the  schools.  Suffice  it 
to  say,  that  it  is  contradicted  by  the  whole  tenor  of  the  Bible 
and  its  specific  language  on  this  very  subject ;  and  that  it  is 
alr^o  contradicted  by  all  true  philosophy. 


VII. 

THE  EXCELLEXCY  OF  THE  KNOWLEDGE  OF  CHFJST. 


1  Cor.  ii.  2. — "  For  I  determined  not  to  know  any  tiling  among  you,  save 
Jesus  Christ,  and  him  crucified." 


We  follow  man  from  the  cradle  to  tlie  grave,  observe  the 
gradual  development  of  all  his  powers,  the  smiHng  iunocence 
and  waking  intellect  of  the  child,  the  rude  sports  of  the  hoy, 
the  impetuous  passion  of  the  man,  till  his  energies  are  enfeebled, 
his  faculties  begin  to  fail,  and  he  at  last  disappears  from  our 
view.  The  curtain  drops,  the  actor  passes  away,  he  is  seen  no 
more ;  but  what  is  behind  the  scenes  ?  Thus  generation  passes 
away  after  generation,  and  where  are  they?  The  dead  who 
have  gone  before  us,  where  are  they  ?  We  have  heard  of  their 
deeds  of  valor,  or  read  their  works  of  immortal  genius,  or 
witnessed  their  works  of  benevolence  and  love,  or  mingled  in 
all  the  sweet  intercourse  of  social  life  along  with  them ;  and 
now,  where  are  they  ?  That  eye  which,  even  when  turned  on 
empty  space,  beamed  bright  with  intelligence,  is  it  quenched 
forever  ?  That  heart,  which  throbbed  high  with  genei'ous  love 
for  God  and  man,  shall  it  beat  no  more  ?  That  smile,  which 
beamed  with  divine  benevolence,  and  shed  happiness  along  its 
path,  is  it  chilled  in  the  coldness  of  eternal  death.  That  whole 
mass  of  living  and  moving,  and  feeling  beings,  who  in  suc- 
cessive generations  have  filled  the  scenes  of  this  world's  history, 
do  they  live  again,  or  "  lie  in  cold  abstraction,  and  there 
rot  ?" 

It  is  here  that  our  inquiries  become  really  important,  and 
our  solicitude  painfully  intense,  when  the  question  concerns 
the  happiness  of  incalculable  millions,  multiplied  by  an  infinity 
of  years.     Yet  it  is  precisely  here  that  all  human  knowledge 


KNOWLEDGE    OF  CnRIST.  180 

fails  us,  all  Imrnan  speculation  is  at  fault.  Thus,  we  examine 
nature  in  its  mightiest  masses  and  its  niitiutest  particles;  we 
observe  its  wonderful  machinery  and  its  beneficent  operations, 
but  where  is  the  moving  spirit  ?  We  perceive  its  dead  and 
mute  materialism,  but  where  is  that  mysterious  and  fearful 
Spirit  who  first  called  it  into  being,  gave  the  first  impulse  to  its 
movements,  and  still  sits  on  high  and  presides  supremely  over 
all  its  operations  ?  And  what  are  his  character  and  relations 
to  us  ?  Does  he  look  with  indolent  or  gloomy  indifference  on 
the  course  of  human  affiiirs  ?  Does  he  malignantly  rejoice  in  the 
suffering  of  the  race,  or  does  he  sit  with  the  calm  and  awful 
diirnity,  the  pure  and  untarnished  uprightness  of  the  supreme 
and  omniscient  Judge,  scrutinizing  all  human  actions,  and 
awarding  to  each  its  own  moral  retributions  ? 

And  this  great  universe,  in  which  we  live  and  of  Avhich  we 
form  a  part,  so  vast  in  its  extent,  so  wonderful  in  its  structure, 
so  connected  in  its  parts,  and  yet  so  separate,  so  remote,  and 
yet  so  mutually  dependent — What  is  it,  and  why  ?  Is  it  an 
enigma  and  a  riddle,  or  is  there  throughout  the  whole,  some  one 
great  common  principle  uniting  all  in  one  bond  of  universal 
harmony,  and  leading  all  to  the  accomplishment  of  some  su- 
preme and  universal  object.  And  do  the  beings  in  other  parts 
of  God's  dominions  feel  an  interest  in  us  ?  Is  "there  a  bond 
of  moral  sympathy,  powerful  as  that  which  binds  the  eternal 
universe  together,  extending  throughout  this  magnificent  crea- 
tion, uniting  God's  moral  universe  into  one  family  of  brethren, 
under  one  Father's  care. 

Over  all  these  questions  of  deepest  interest  and  sublime  im- 
port, reason  casts  but  a  faint  and  feeble  light.  Into  this  region 
of  grandeur  and  mystery  and  wonder  it  may  not  enter.  It 
m;iy  stand  indeed  on  the  borders  of  that  land,  and  gaze  wist- 
fully over,  with  dim  and  doubtful  vision,  uncertain  if  the  shapes 
it  beholds  are  forms  of  light,  or  spirits  of  darkness,  or  creations 
of  fancy.     In  the  Gospel  alone  can  these  problems  be  solved. 

I.  It  is  Christ  that  has  brought  life  and  immortality  to 
light,  and  the  knowledge  he  gives  is  most  delightful  and  sub- 
lime.    It  is  the  revelation  of  his  grace  which  has  dispelled  the 


190  THE   EXCELLENCY   OF   THE 

darkness  and  dimness  that  enveloped  our  sky,  and  has  made 
all  things  bright  and  clear  to  our  view.  Over  the  grave  it  has 
cast  a  glory,  over  nature  a  charm  ;  in  man  it  has  discovered  a 
dignity  and  in  the  universe  a  harmony  unknown  before.  The 
sun  of  righteousness  has  arisen,  the  mists  which  obscured  our 
vision  are  dispersed,  and  the  whole  scene  lies  spread  out  in  love- 
liness and  grandeur  beneath  his  pure  and  heavenly  light.  CouLl 
one  of  those  unfortunate  beings,  whose  senses  have  been  locked 
up  from  the  hour  of  birth  iu  darkness  and  deep  night,  be  sud- 
denly visited  by  the  full,  clear  light  of  heaven,  lift  up  his  de- 
lighted eyes  upon  this  glorious  earth,  and  this  broad,  starry 
sky,  behold  the  ten  thousand  forms  of  loveliness  and  hues  of 
beauty  around  him,  and  that  glorious  and  majestic  world  of 
light  above  him,  pouring  forth  from  his  throne  of  kingly  ex- 
altation, with  sovereign  munificence,  light,  life,  and  loveliness 
on  this  inferior  globe,  it  would  be  to  him  no  longer  that  old 
world  he  had  so  imperfectly  learned  before,  but  as  a  new  crea- 
tion sprung  fresh  from  its  Creator's  hand,  and  endowed  with 
new  properties  of  beauty  and  of  grandeur. 

Even  so  is  it  with  the  Christian.  A  regenerating  spirit  has 
brooded  over  the  waters,  and  a  new  creation  has  sprung  up 
beneath  his  influence — "  Old  things  have  passed  away  and  all 
things  have  become  new."  To  him  all  things  now  assume  new 
and  nobler  attributes.  The  broad  arch  of  heaven  and  the  green 
garniture  of  earth,  the  deep  majestic  ocean  and  the  everlasting 
hills,  the  music  of  the  grove  and  the  beauty  of  the  valley — hi  all 
of  these  "he  sees  a  hand  you  cannot  see,  he  hears  a  voice  you 
cannot  hear."  But  especially  in  regard  to  man,  in  all  that 
concerns  his  origin  and  his  nature,  liis  duty  and  his  destiny, 
his  views  have  taken  a  higher  range,  his  sentiments  have 
assumed  a  loftier  and  holier  tone.  Man  is  no  longer  the  child 
of  clay,  and  the  sport  of  chance,  but  the  heir  of  immortality — 
a  citizen  of  heaven.  His  desires,  boundless  as  infinity,  now  find 
an  appropriate  object'.  His  faculties,  large  by  nature,  and 
capable  of  unlimited  expansion,  obtain  a  suitable  theatre  for 
their  exercise  and  development.  Those  desires,  no  longer  limited 
by  earth  and   sense,  rising,  expanding,  glowing  iu  tlie  j^ui^ 


KNOWLEDGE   OF   CHRIST.  191 

atmosphere  of  heavenly  trutl),  find  their  most  dignified  em- 
pkoyinent,  their  most  exalted  gratification.  Those  faculties, 
enlarging  with  the  objects  they  embrace,  and  grasping  still 
vaster  at  each  felt  enlargement,  secure  full 'scope  for  their 
liveliest  and  healthiest  exercise,  in  that  wide  field  of  lofty  con- 
templation opened  uj)  in  the  Bible,  where  the  sovd  walks  forth 
with  delight,  as  on  its  native  soil,  with  God  and  angels,  and 
redeemed  spirits  for  its  companions.  All  around  is  stamped 
with  the  impress  of  the  Infinite  and  Eternal. 

The  whole  universe  is  now  our  Father's  house,  where  we 
may  forever  gaze  on  his  rellected  glory,  exalted,  humbled,  and 
refreshed  by  the  delightful  manifestation.  On  all  around  we 
behold  the  footsteps  of  the  Deity.  This  earth  is  the  cradle, 
tlie  nursery  of  immortal  beings.  Here  angels  minister.  Here 
God  shows  forth  his  wonders.  Here  Christ  died.  Every  spot 
is  holy,  for  the  Lord  is  here.  Oh,  what  a  theme  is  this ! — theme 
to  employ  an  angel's  tongue — theme  to  enkindle  a  seraph's  soul 
of  fire,  where  the  mind  labors  beneath  the  vastness  of  its  own 
conceptions,  and  the  tongue  falters  to  express  what  the  mind, 
alas  !  too  feebly  conceives  ;  where  the  thoughts,  rolling  onward, 
become  vast,  vague,  and  fearful  as  that  immensity  in  which  they 
rove. 

Oh,  mother !  that  babe  upon  your  bosom  is  no  longer  the 
feeble,  helpless  thing  that  you  imagine.  It  is  an  angel  in  the 
bud.  That  man  of  multijjlied  afflictions,  tossing  from  side  to 
side  upon  his  couch  of  woe,  visited  by  the  neglect  or  scorn  of 
the  proud  and  gay  around  him,  and  -presenting  to  the  eye  of 
benevolent  observation  the  most  melancholy  of  earthly  specta- 
cles, sliall  rise  above  these  scenes  of  darkness.  And  from  the 
lonely  inclosure,  where  so  many  decaying  forms  are  laid,  where 
the  wild  grass  waves  luxuriant  over  broken  sepulchres,  shall 
spring  forth  new  forms  of  beauty  and  glory — angelic  beauty, 
unfading  glory. 

Go  with  me  now  through  the  whole  range  of  human  science, 
and  where  shall  we  find  aught  at  once  so  delightful  and  so 
sublime;  aught  that  sheds  over  the  world  a  light  at  once  so 
steady,  so  cheerful,  and  so  glorious,  that  so  enlarges  the  mind 


192  THE    EXCELLEXCY   OF   THE 

and  purifies  tlie  heart,  that  so  glorifies  the  Creator,  and  at  once 
humbles  and  exalts  the  creature?  Have  we  not  well  said  that 
this  Christian  kuowdedge  is  the  most  delightful  and  sublime  ? 
Let  us  proceed  then  to  our  second  proposition,  which  is,  that — 

II.  The  most  useful  and  necessary  knowledge  is  that  which 
is  found  in  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  All  knowledge  is  valuable, 
even  that  w'hich  serves  to  amuse  a  vacant  hour,  or  gratify  a 
momentary  curiosity.  But  who  would  compare  the  amusement 
of  an  hour  with  the  interests  of  a  life-time,  the  curiosity  of  a 
moment  with  the  weightiest  concerns  of  families  and  nations. 
What  concerns  the  body's  comfort  is  important ;  but  what  is 
this  to  the  soul's  high  interest — the  duration  of  a  day  to  the 
long  lapse  of  interminable  ages  ?  Children  w^aste  their  anxieties 
on  the  trifles  of  the  present  moment ;  wiser  men  look  forward 
to  the  exigencies  of  future  life ;  the  wisest  take  in  the  whok' 
interests  of  a  life  wdiich  shall  not  end.  The  knowledge  of 
ancient  navigators  served  their  purposes,  when  only  a  few 
miles  from  shore.  They  had  noticed  a  few  rocks,  and  promon- 
tories, and  observed  a  few  well-known  stars  ;  and  w^hen  the 
sky  was  serene,  and  the  sea  tranquil,  and  the  tall  mountains 
seen  proudly  lifting  their  heads  in  the  distance,  or  the  low 
beach  in  the  blue  line  skirting  the  horizon,  they  could  boldly 
and  safely  prosecute  their  narrow  trades,  but  when  far  out  at 
sea,  with  naught  in  view  but  the  wild  waste  of  waters  spread- 
ing far  and  wide  around,  or  when  the  dense  fog  enveloped 
their  bark,  or  the  storm  lashed  ocean  into  fary,  their  knowl- 
edge failed — failed  in  their  hour  of  peril,  and  left  them  to  wan- 
der aimless  and  hopeless  over  the  illimitable  waters — to  perish 
by  hunger,  or  dash  a  fearful  wreck  upon  some  unknown  shore. 
Their  knowledge,  though  limited,  was  useful,  but  how  much 
more  useful  that  of  modern  times,  when  the  compass  points 
the  way,  and  man  sails  securely  in  the  darkest  night,  and  over 
the  farthest  ocean,  as  in  the  clear  light  of  day,  in  full  view  of  his 
native  shore. 

Even  so  it  is  w4th  the  knowledge  of  religion.  This  is  life's 
real  compass  amidst  its  storms  and  darkness,  this  points  ever 
to  the  only  haven  of  rest,  and,  over  a  tempestuous  ocean,  guides 


KNOWLEDGE   OF  CHRIST.  l'J3 

to  an  miseen  land  of  glory  and  repose.  But,  not  only  did  tlie  in- 
vention of  the  compass  lead  to  the  discovery  of  unknown  lands, 
it  changed  all  the  relations  of  commerce,  and  operated  on  so- 
ciety in  all  its  interests  and  in  every  region.  Wealth,  intelli- 
gence, civilization,  freedom,  were  diffused  widely  through  its 
instrumentality,  and  the  Gospel  has  been  borne  to  untold  mil- 
lions, who  otherwise  had  never  heard  its  tones  of  mercy.  So 
religion  has  not  confined  its  influence  to  our  future  destiny, 
but  has  gently  diftused  it  through  all  our  socinl  and  personal 
relations,  and  is  really  a  blessing  to  society,  as  to  the  individual. 
Let  him  who  doubts  it  compare  ancient  with  modern  morals; 
the  purity  of  domestic  Christian  life  with  the  licentiousness 
and  debauchery  prevalent  among  the  ancients ;  let  him  visit 
those  cities  half  excavated  from  the  lava  which  covered  and 
preserved  them,  and  providentially  offering  the  contrast  to  our 
e3'es,  where  the  licentious  Italian  blushes  for  his  more  corrupt 
predecessors,  as  he  gazes  on  scenes  which  modesty  may  not 
dare  to  describe.  Let  him  compare  the  pure  domestic  bliss 
and  household  virtues  of  our  own  favored  land  with  the  pollu- 
tions which  now  prevail  in  those  nations  and  cities  where  the 
Saviour  is  not  known  or  is  rejected.  Thus  may  he  learn  to  ac- 
knowledge how  incalculable  is  the  benefit  bestowed  by  the 
Gospel  on  society  in  all  its  relations,  political,  social,  and 
moral. 

There  is  much,  however,  that  is  useful,  and  yet  not  indispen- 
sable;  much  that  adorns  and  dignifies  human  life,  which  yet  is 
not  essential  to  human  comfort ;  and  of  the  greater  part  of  those 
accomplishments  which  are  so  much  prized  and  so  eagerly 
sought  after  in  society  around  us,  it  must,  at  last,  be  said, 
that,  however  gracefully  they  may  sit  upon  the  polished  and 
refined,  they  have  little  beneficial  influence  upon  human  hap- 
piness or  human  virtue.  With  a  clear  head  and  a  quiet  con- 
science, one  can  do  very  well  without  them. 

But  the  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ  is  absolutely  indispensa- 
ble.    It  has  this  pre-eminence  above  all  other  knowledge,  that 
none  other  will  supply  its  place ;  that  in  no  condition  of  life, 
under  no  peculiarity  of  circumstances,  with  no  singularity  of 
9 


104  THE   KXCELLICXCY   OF   THE 

genius  or  character,  can  it  be  safely  neglected.  To  the  deeply 
reflecting  and  speculative  mind  it  is  necessary,  as  the  termina- 
tion of  its  doubts,  as  the  solutions  of  those  perplexing  problems 
which  have  long  agitated  and  disturbed  it ;  to  the  miserable 
it  is  necessary,  as  the  solace  of  his  affliction,  as  the  only  sup- 
port beneath  the  burden  which  has  long  overwhelmed  him  ; 
to  one  conscious  of  guilt  it  is  necessary,  as  the  only  method 
of  escape  from  the  upbraidings  of  an  awakened  conscience ; 
and  to  all,  as  the  only  hope  of  salvation  from  the  wrath  to 
come. 

It  will  be  necessary  to  individuals,  to  families,  to  human  so- 
ciety, as  long  as  purity  and  gentleness  and  love  are  essential 
to  human  happiness,  as  long  as  glory  to  God  in  the  highest  is 
intimately  and  indissolubly  connected  with  "peace  on  earth, 
and  good  will  among  men."  What  would  be  this  earth,  if 
there  were  naught  beside  !  if  the  blue  arch  of  heaven  no  longer 
spanned  the  globe,  if  the  stars  without  number  no  longer  glit- 
tered in  our  sky,  if  the  sun  no  longer  sent  down  his  benignant 
beams  to  cheer  our  darkness,  nor  the  clouds  their  moisture  to 
fertilize  our  valleys?  Even  thus  would  it  be  if  there  were  no 
heaven  above  for  the  immortal  spirit,  if  no  kindly  influences 
came  down  from  that  far-off  world,  to  purify  and  elevate  our 
race.     Oh,  what  would  be  earth,  if  earth  were  all! 

It  is  a  truth  which  can  never  be  too  deeply  pondered,  too 
deeply  engraven  on  our  hearts,  that  no  human  knowledge  can 
satisfy  the  soul.  Thy  philosophy  may  know  all  systems.  Thy 
history  may  extend  from  the  commencement  of  the  globe,  and 
descend  with  minutest  accuracy  to  the  present  moment.  Thy 
mathematics  may  include  all  that  is  known  of  number  and. 
quantity,  in  all  their  abstruse  inquiries,  and  all  their  practical 
applications,  but  what  is  all  this  to  thee,  if  thy  soul  be  not 
satisfied  ?  The  soul  is  of  a  higher  nature,  and  there  is,  within, 
a  restless  longing  after  higher  and  better  knowledge,  and 
sooner  shall  that  soul  itself  be  annihilated  than  thou  canst 
eradicate  thence  this  surest  mark  of  its  immortal  nature. 
There  is  but  one  thing  needful,  to  know  the  one  true  and  living 
God,  and  Jesus  Christ  his  only  Son,  whom  to  know  is  life 


KNOWLEDGE   OF  CHRIST.  105 

eternal.  Without  this,  all  other  knowledge  is  useless.  Thou 
mayest  he  deeply  learned  in  all  that  physicians  have  discovered 
through  centuries  of  labor.  But,  alas  !  what  will  it  profit  ?  Thy 
body  perhaps  is  healed,  but  tliy  soul  is  diseased — diseased  with 
a  deadly  malady,  which  pr-^ys  inwardly  upon  the  vitals,  and 
will  soon  break  out  in  the  darkest  symptoms  of  eternal  death ! 
Thine  estate  may  be  secured  by  the  learning  of  a  skilful  at- 
torney, but  what  will  it  profit  thee,  thou  hast  no  inheritance  in 
heaven.  Thou  art  a  child  of  wrath,  a  son  of  perdition,  an  heir 
to  the  agonies  that  cannot  be  endured,  yet  may  not  pass  away. 
At  death  all  other  knowledge  fails.  Will  your  philosophy, 
your  medicine,  your  law  pass  on  with  you  into  heaven  ?  Alas  ! 
what  subtlety  can  deceive,  what  eloquence  persuade  the  heart- 
searching  and  Omniscient  One?  What  skill  of  man,  what 
medicine  of  the  shops  can  heal  or  alleviate  the  torments  of  a 
soul  in  ruin  ? 

Then  it  is  that  this  knowledge  is  most  usefuL  After  guid- 
ing through  life  it  attends  you  in  death,  and  in  that  hour 
when  flesh  and  heart  shall  fail,  it  will  be  the  strength  of 
your  heart  and  your  portion  forever.  Oh,  in  that  hour  how 
vain  is  earthly  wisdom,  how  precious  the  knowledge  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  him  crucified ;  how  fearful  to  hear  him  say, 
"Depart  from  me,  I  never  knew  you."  Observe  that  it  is 
the  knowledge  of  Christ  crucified  that  the  apostle  so  highly 
prizes,  as  a  mediator  between  God  and  man,  as  an  atoning  sac- 
rifice for  sin,  as  a  great  high-i)riest,  who  has  shed  his  own  blood 
for  us,  and  entered  into  the  holiest  of  holies  on  our  behalf.  It 
is  not  merely  a  sentimental  admiration  of  his  exalted  and  beau- 
tiful morality,  but  a  cordial  acceptance  of  his  atonement  for 
sin.  It  is  not  as  a  model,  but  as  a  Saviour,  that  we  must  know 
him.  It  is  not  merely  the  glorified,  but  the  crucified  Redeemer. 
It  is  to  love  his  Gospel,  not  only  when  greeted  with  the  halle- 
lujahs of  the  multitude,  but  likewise  when  saluted  with  the 
cry  of  *''•  Crucify  hi/n,  crucify  iLirnP  Ah,  my  brethren,  it  is 
easy  to  know  Christ  when  all  are  crying  "  Blessed  is  he  tiiat 
Cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord ;  "  but  when  the  question  is 
scornfully,  fiercely  put,  "  Art  thou  not  one  of  this  man's  disci- 


108  THE   EXCELLENCY    OF   THE 

pies?"  how  many  of  us  are  prone  to  say,  "I  know  not  the 
man"? 

But  this  is  not  the  knowledge  of  which  the  apostle  speaks  so 
enthusiastically.  "  Gratitude,"  it  has  been  finely  said,  "is  the 
memory  of  the  heart,"  and  the  definition  is  as  philosophically 
just  as  it  is  poetic.iUy  beautiful.  Even  so  would  we  say,  "  Re- 
ligion is  the  knowledge  of  the  heart."  To  know  Jesus  Christ 
is  not  merely  to  have  heard  of  him,  to  talk  of  him,  to  have 
read  the  history  of  his  life  and  the  story  of  his  death.  It  is 
to  know  him  as  a  friend,  as  an  intimate  and  daily  companion, 
as  our  comfort  in  sorrow,  as  our  light  in  darkness,  our  joy  in 
afiiiction,  our  guide,  our  director,  our  exceeding  great  reward. 

It  is  not  an  uncommon  circumstance  for  us  to  associate  for 
months  and  even  for  years  with  an  individual  whom  we  cannot 
understand,  whom  we  do  not  know,  while  we  often  mingle  in 
a  society  where  we  are  ourselves  perpetually  misunderstood. 
The  reason  is  there  is  no  sympathy,  no  comumnity  of  character 
and  feeling  between  us.  The  man  of  lofty  character  and  pure 
and  elevated  feelings  is  an  enigma  to  those  of  an  opposite 
description.  They  have  no  conception  of  his  feelings  because 
they  have  nothing  responsive  within  themselves.  But  when 
we  meet  with  one  of  feelings  corresponding  to  our  own,  how 
soon,  and  how  intimately  do  we  know  him  ;  each  feeling,  each 
thought,  is  immediately  understood,  nay,  almost  anticipated 
before  expressed.  We  feel  that  we  have  access  to  his  inmost 
soul,  that  it  is  but  the  reflection  of  our  own.  Xow  it  is  this 
intimacy  of  knowledge,  wliich  springs  from  true  afi'ection,  from 
a  community  of  feeling  and  character,  to  which  the  Apostle 
John  alludes  when  he  says,  "  Our  fellowship  is  with  the  Father 
and  the  Son  and  the  Spirit."  To  which  the  Saviour  refers 
when  he  says,  "  If  any  man  love  me,  I  and  my  Father  will 
come  and  make  our  abode  with  him." 

Professing  Christian,  knowest  thou  nothing  of  this  intimate 
intercourse,  this  near  communion,  this  hidden  life  ?  Then 
must  we  say,  in  all  sincerity,  thou  knowest  nothing  of  the  mat- 
ter. Thou  hast  at  best  only  touched  the  hem  of  the  Saviour's 
garment.    Thou  hast  not  leaned  on  his  bosom.    Thou  knowest 


KNOWLEDGE   OF   CHRIST.  197 

him  only  as  they  knew  him  who  first  welcomed  him  as  a  mon- 
arch, and  then  cruciherl  him  as  a  malefactor.  But  how  shall  this 
divine  and  heavi-nly  knowledge  be  attained  ?  There  is  no 
streiio^th  of  the  human  intellect  which  can  master  it.  There  is 
no  elevation  of  human  genius  which  can  reach  it.  There  is  no 
accumulation  of  human  learning  which  can  approach  it.  "  It  is 
not  of  the  earth,  earthly.  It  is  the  wisdom  that  descendeth 
from  above."  It  is  high,  you  c;ninot  attain  unto  it.  You  can- 
not pile  Pelion  upon  Ossa,  Alps  upon  Alps,  one  acquirement 
upon  another,  it  is  all  in  vain.  He  who  would  pluck  fruit  from 
the  tree  of  life  must  ascend  on  the  wings  of  faith,  and  be 
buoyed  up  by  the  mighty  spirit  of  the  Lord.  It  is  by  humble 
prayer,  and  faithful  study  of  God's  word,  attended  by  his  illu- 
minating spirit,  that  man  attains  to  the  wisdom  of  the  just. 

O  ye  young  and  ardent  minds,  confident  in  your  strength, 
and  sanguine  in  your  expectations,  learn  to  be  fools,  that  ye 
may  become  wise ;  to  be  humble,  that  ye  may  be  exalted.  How 
shall  the  blind  man  comprehend  the  glories  of  the  world  around 
him  till  a  power  from  on  high  shall  unlock  the  doors  of  vision, 
and  let  in  upon  him  the  light  of  heaven?  How  shall  the  deaf 
man  understand  the  melody  of  sound  till  an  almighty  hand 
shall  touch  the  organ  of  hearing,  and  a  divine  voice  shall  say, 
*' Ephphatha,  be  thou  opened  "  ?  How  shall  man  by  wisdom 
find  out  the  Almighty? 

And  now  may  I  be  permitted  to  address  a  single  word  to  the 
numerous  youths  whom  I  behold  around  me?  Though  un- 
known to  many  of  you  in  person,  yet  have  I  been  often  pres- 
ent with  you  in  spirit;  and  though  separated  by  mountains, 
continents,  and  oceans,  my  heart  hath  yearned  after  you  as  the 
heart  of  a  mother  toward  her  first-born.  'Twas  not  so  much 
that  I  desired  to  engage  with  you  in  those  social  studies  which 
I  have  loved  from  earliest  childhood,  but  it  was  that  I  hoped 
to  mingle  with  human  science  something  diviner  far  ;  that  the 
foundation  of  solid  learning  might  bear  a  superstructure  reach- 
ing upward  to  the  skies  ;  that  I  might  add.  my  feeble  testimony 
to  that  of  the  great  cloud  of  witnesses  for  the  superiority  of 
the  Gospel.     Be  assured,  my  beloved,  that  wherever  you  may 


]  98  THE   EXCELLENCY   OF   THE   KNOWLEDGE,  ETC. 

waDder,  if  not  dazzled  by  splendor,  nor  awed  by  authority,  nor 
misled  by  fashion,  the  conviction  must  ever  deepen  on  your 
mind,  that  the  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  only  true  wisdom,  and 
that  of  all  earthly  spectacles  the  most  melancholy  is  presented 
when  learning  and  genius  are  divorced  from  piety,  when  gi- 
gantic intellect,  clothed  with  almost  superhuman  learning,  and 
urged  on  by  towering  pride,  attempts  to  scale  the  battlements 
of  heaven,  and,  failing  in  the  effort,  lies  crushed  beneath  the 
weight  of  its  own  massive  armor,  and  convulsed  by  the  throes 
of  its  own  perverted  energies. 


VIII. 

PAUL  VINDICATED  FROM  THE  CHARGE  OF  MADNESS. 


Acts,  xxvi.  24,  25. — ''And  as  he  thus  spake  for  himself,  Festiis  said  with  a 
loud  voice,  Paul,  thou  art  beside  thyself;  much  learning  doth  make  thee 
mad.  But  he  said,  I  am  not  mad,  most  noble  Festus ;  but  speak  forth  the 
words  of  truth  and  soberness." 


If  an  individual,  in  some  strange  paroxysm  of  perverted 
ambition,  should  aspire  after  the  reputation  of  the  most  egre- 
gious folly,  and  desire  to  be  known  and  proclaimed  among  his 
fellow-men  as  the  completest  madman  of  his  age,  what  course 
should  he  pursue  to  attain  most  certainly  his  object  ?  Should 
he  devise  some  new  scheme  of  folly,  stranger  and  more  pre- 
posterous than  all  whicli  had  preceded  it,  by  which  man  could 
fritter  away  more  surely  the  noble  powers  which  God  has 
bestowed  upon  him  in  tiie  most  heartless  and  frivolous  amuse- 
ments ?  Should  he  invent  some  theory  in  morals,  or  some  sys- 
tem of  religion,  more  monstrous  and  revolting  than  any  which 
the  human  imagination,  in  its  wildest  reveries  has  yet  con- 
ceived, or  the  human  heart  in  its  deepest  pollution  has  yet 
embraced  ? 

If  he  understood  at  all  the  nature  of  man,  far  different  would 
be  his  scheme.  There  is  no  frivolity  so  absurd  or  stupid,  that 
it  is  not  freely  indulged  and  gravely  defended  by  many  who 
profess  to  be  wise.  Tliere  is  no  theory  in  matter,  mind,  or 
morals,  so  strangely  and  ludicrously  inconsistent,  so  self-con- 
tradictory and  suicidal,  that  it  has  not  received  the  sanction  of 
grave  philosophers,  and  the  stamp  of  highest  wisdom.  Even 
those  who  denied  the  existence  of  the  objects  of  their  inquiry, 
and  destroyed  at  one  fell  strolce  all  mattei-,  mind,  and  morals, 


200  PAUL   YINDTCATED   FROM 

were  considered  the  profonndest  in  wisdom.  To  doubt  was 
considered  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  reasoning,  and  the 
sceptical  philosophy  was  enthroned  in  the  admiration  of  man- 
kind. It  is  not  then  by  being  pre-eminently  absurd,  or  pre- 
eminently frivolous,  that  he  could  ever  attain  the  desired  repu- 
tation. But  he  need  not  despair.  Let  him  reverse  the  process, 
and  his  object  is  accomplished.  Let  him  regulate  his  life 
according  to  the  principles  of  the  purest  and  truest  reason. 
Let  his  thoughts  ascend  to  a  higher  region,  and  take  a  wider 
sweep,  than  those  of  the  men  around  him.  Exalted  as  he  is, 
to  a  higher  intellectual  eminence,  and  looking  far  away  over  a 
more  extensive  horizon,  let  his  feelings,  his  character,  and  his 
conduct  all  partake  of  a  similar  exnltation,  and  be  guided  by  a 
spirit  and  moulded  to  a  fashion  for  which  others  feel  no  sym- 
pathy, because  they  have  no  comprehension.  For  such  a  man 
as  this,  whatever  might  be  liis  sphere  of  action  or  field  of 
thought,  the  common  mass  would  only  feel  contempt  or  pity. 
And  whether  he  propounded  some  far-seen  tiuth  in  politics,  or 
some  deeply-pondered  principle  in  the  philosophy  of  the  mind, 
or  some  rule  of  action  deeply  laid  in  man's  constitution  and 
relations  to  the  universe,  or  some  wide  and  comprehensive 
view  of  God's  creation  and  moral  government — all  this  would 
only  be  fresh  evidence  to  them  of  an  unbalanced  mind, 
i-oving  vigorously,  perhaps,  but  almost  blindly  in  an  ideal 
world. 

It  is  obvious  that  if  any  man  were  endowed  with  a  new 
sense  which  opened  before  him  qualities  unseen  and  unknown 
to  other  men,  the  whole  of  his  language  and  conduct  might  be 
entirely  different  fi'om  that  of  other  men,  and  moving  thus  in  a 
new  world,  and  influenced  by  new  views,  he  might  seem  to 
them  the  subject  of  some  strange  disorder.  And  thus  too  it  is 
easy  to  conceive  how  the  individual  to  whom  we  have  alluded, 
living  in  a  new  world  of  thought  open  to  higher  influences, 
and  guided  by  more  exalted  views,  might  act  upon  principles 
and  cherish  opinions  utterly  incomprehensible  to  those  around  ; 
and,  while  directed  by  the  highest  wisdom,  might  appear  the 
victim  of  the  grossest  folly,  because  the  wisdom  which   he 


THE   CHARGE   OF  MADNESS.  201 

cultivated  was  far  above,  and,  as   the  Psalmist   hap[)ily  ex- 
presses it,  "out  of  sight." 

When  Columbus  first  announced  to  the  inhabitants  of  Europe 
the  existence  of  that  new  world  that  lay  far  away  in  the  distant 
west,  beyond  the  waters  of  an  untried  and  unmeasured  ocean, 
and  avowed  his  determination  to  visit  that  undiscovered  land, 
and  reveal  its  unknown  wonders  and  hidden  wealth  to  the 
astonished  nations,  he  was  considered  the  wildest  dreamer  of 
his  age,  perhaps  the  most  extravagant  and  visionary  speculator 
of  any  day.  He  travelled  over  Europe  in  the  prosecution  of 
his  magnificent  scheme ;  he  passed  from  city  to  city,  and  from 
court  to  court,  but  was  everywhere  met  with  the  same  cool  and 
contemptuous  derision.  The  philosopher  smiled  and  scarcely 
deigned  to  argue,  the  witling  jested,  and  the  man  of  influence 
and  power  listened  with  impatient  astonishment  to  a  scheme 
so  full  of  certain  danger,  and  so  remote  from  probable  success; 
and  it  was  not  till  after  years  of  unwearied  labor,  and  most 
cruel  mockings,  that  he  obtained  a  feeble  and  ill-appointed 
fleet,  to  embark  in  the  greatest  of  earthly  enterprises.  When 
Newton  first  removed  the  veil  which  concealed  many  of  the 
mysteries  of  nature,  and  announced  to  mankind  the  vastness  of 
the  material  universe,  and  the  simplicity  of  the  laws  by  which 
its  various  parts  are  bound  together,  and  their  complicated 
movements  liarmoniously  directed,  the  views  whicli  he  un- 
folded were  too  vast  for  the  philosophers  of  tl.e  day,  and  many 
denounced,  as  idle  and  visionary  theories,  the  sober  results  of 
mathematical  calculation. 

We  ought  not  then  to  be  surprised,  that  when  the  Apostle 
Paul  went  forth  among  mankind  to  tell  of  that  invisible,  whence 
no  voyager  has  ever  yet  returned  to  make  known  his  discov- 
eries, and  to  proclaim  those  riches  and  that  glory  which  no 
eye  has  seen  and  no  ear  has  heard  and  no  heart  has  been  able 
to  conceive,  he  should  be  often  heard  with  careless  incredulity, 
and  his  annunciations  treated  as  the  wild  extravagancies  of  an 
overheated  brain.  Nothing,  says  a  scofiing  sceptic,  cotdd  be 
more  visionary  than  the  attem])t  to  reform  mankind ;  yet  this 
was  the  verv  enterprise  in  which  the  apostle  had  embarked. 
9=^ 


202  PAUL   TIXDICATED   FROM 

Other  philosophers  had  travelled,  that  they  might  gain  instruc- 
tion :  he  that  he  might  communicate  knowledge.  Olhers  had 
visited  foreign  lands,  that  they  might  study  the  laws  and 
maimers  of  mankind,  and  from  the  collected  wisdom  of  nations 
add  something  to  their  own  stores  :  he  went  forth  to  proclaim 
that  wisdom  which  is  not  of  the  earth,  earthy,  but  descended 
from  aboYe,  to  make  known  the  laws  and  the  government  of 
Him  v/ho  sits  in  presiding  dignity  over  all  worlds,  and  on 
whose  high  award  depend  alike  the  destinies  of  men  and  angels. 
And  in  the  prosecution  of  this  high  design,  there  was  no  dan- 
ger which  he  did  not  meet,  no  suiFering  which  he  did  not 
endure:  he  saw  death  in  all  its  shapes,  and  scorned  them  all. 
There  was  no  city  celebrated  for  its  learning,  its  vices,  or  its 
wealth,  which  he  did  not  visit ;  and  though  he  labored  with 
an  energy  that  could  not  be  w^earied,  and  argued  with  a  force 
that  could  not  be  resisted,  and  poured  forth,. on  every  topic 
that  he  touched,  a  torrent  of  the  most  convincing  and  per- 
suasive eloquence,  yet,  w^herever  he  directed  his  steps,  he  was 
met  wnth  the  same  rude  insults,  and  bitterly  derided  as  a 
fanatic,  a  babbler,  and  a  fool. 

A  stranger  once  appeared  in  Athens.  He  came  not  to  linger 
amidst  the  shades  of  the  Academy,  or  to  muse  on  the  departed 
genius  of  Plato.  He  paused  not  to  admire  the  monuments  of 
liuman  art,  to  gaze  upon  the  works  of  Phidias  and  Praxiteles, 
those  amazing  productions  of  creative  getiius  which  have 
secured  to  their  authors  the  immortality  they  designed  to 
confer  on  others.  He  only  saw  that  they  w^ere  wholly  given 
to  idolatry ;  he  only  noticed  that  strange  altar  erected  to  the 
unknown  God.  And  now  the  crowed  of  lively  and  inquisitive 
Athenians  has  gathered  around  him,  and  as  they  move  up 
toward  the  Areopagus,  each  is  whispering  to  his  friend, 
"What  will  this  babbler  say?"  The  gay  and  superficial  Epi- 
curean leads  on  the  attack,  and  assures  him  that  pleasure  is 
the  chief  good  of  man,  and  that  the  gods  repose  in  tranquil 
dignity  for  "above  the  stir  and  smoke  of  the  dim  spot  that  we 
call  earth,"  indifferent  alike  to  human  conduct  and  human  hap- 
jjiness.     The  stern  raid  haughty  Suae  lai-gely  prates  of  human 


THE   CHARGE   <JV  MADXKSS.  203 

wisdom  and  human  dignity,  assures  him  that  happiness  and 
misery  are  equally  indifferent,  and  that  the  wise  man  is  superior 
to  the  fates,  and  even  independent  of  the  gods;  darkly  hinting 
all  the  while  the  uncertainty  of  the  future  being,  and  the 
absurdity  of  expecting  a  state  of  future  rewards  and  punish- 
ments. 

And  now  this  stranger  is  standing-  on  Mars  Hill,  the  messen- 
ger of  peace  in  the  temple  of  the  god  of  war,  and,  with  the 
native  dignity  of  an  upright  and  manly  intellect,  he  spurns 
away  from  him  all  the  jargon  of  the  schools,  and  brushes  off 
the  cobwebs  of  sophistry  which  Grecian  subtilty  had  w<^ven. 
He  enters  not  the  labyrinth  of  their  endless  disputations,  but 
marches  on  with  steady  and  assured  step  to  the  great  object  of 
his  mission,  and  announces,  in  brief  and  energetic  language,  the 
great  and  sublime  truths  of  religion,  which  all  their  systems 
neglected  or  denied.  He  proclaimed  to  the  idolatrous  crowd 
the  one  true  and  living  God,  who  made  heaven  and  earth  and 
all  things  that  are  therein,  and  shows  fiom  one  of  their  own 
poets  the  folly  of  worshipping  wood  and  stone  for  gods,  since 
we  ourselves  are  the  offspring  of  a  spiritual  and  omnipresent 
God.  He  teaches  the  Epicurean  the  presiding  and  ever-present 
providence  of  God,  in  whom  we  live  and  move  and  have  our 
being,  and  to  the  haughty  Stoic  puffed  with  imaginary  virtue, 
and  doubting  about  a  future  state  of  being,  lie  teaches  the 
necessity  of  repentance  toward  God,  and  points  him  forward 
to  that  day  of  righteous  and  terrible  revelations,  when  God 
will  judge  the  world  in  righteousness  by  that  man  whom  he  hath 
ordained.  But  the  simple  majesty  of  these  great  truths  had  no 
attraction  whatever  for  the  minds  of  the  common  mass,  im- 
mersed as  they  were  in  the  absurdities  and  the  sensuality  of 
paganism,  or  of  the  philosophers,  lost  as  they  were  in  the  mazes 
of  their  minute  and  subtile  disquisitions,  and  with  one  accord 
they  began  to  mock  when  they  heard  of  the  resurrection  of 
the  dead. 

Thus  to  be  the  sport  at  once  of  the  wise  and  the  foolish,  of 
the  ignorant  and  the  learned,  is  perhaps  the  severest  trial 
V.  iich  a  proud  and  arlont  spirit  can  endure  ;  and  if  ever  there 


204  PAUL   YIXDICATED   FROM 

was  a  man  whose  native  sensibility  would  writhe  beneath  such 
an  infliction,  whose  impetuous  temper  would  rise  up  and  iv.- 
dignantly  repel  it,  that  man  was  the  Apostle  Paul.  But  if  he 
felt  it  as  a  man,  as  an  apostle  he  despised  it  all.  And  hence, 
when  rudely  interrupted  by  Festus  in  the  midst  of  his  appeal 
to  the  Jewish  prophets,  and  charged  with  madness,  he  mani- 
fests no  irritation,  he  sends  back  no  retort,  he  assumes  no  air 
of  fanatical  superiority,  he  fulminates  no  bold  or  bitter  denunci- 
ation, but,  Avith  the  temper  of  a  saint  and  the  politeness  of  a 
gentleman,  he  addresses  him  by  his  proper  title,  and  replies 
with  a  simple  negative,  "I  am  not  mad,  most  noble  Festus." 

And  here  it  may  be  well  to  remark  how  decided  and  how 
bitter  is  the  opposition  of  man's  nature  against  the  truth  of 
God.  When  the  Saviour  of  men  was  to  be  crucified,  Pilate  and 
Herod  forgot  their  ancient  enmity,  and  united  to  accomplish 
his  destruciion.  The  Pharisees  and  Sadducees  were  always 
arrayed  in  bitterest  hostility  against  each  other,  yet  would  ever 
unite  to  assault  and  to  entangle  our  Redeemer.  And  so  we 
see  the  various  sects  of  Grecian  philosophers.  Though  en- 
gaged in  perpetual  wranglings  with  each  other,  and  w^arfire 
violent  in  the  inverse  proportion  to  the  importance  of  the 
matters  in  debate,  they  could  suspend  their  mutual  hostilities 
for  a  season,  that  Epicurean  and  Stoic  and  Peripatetic  in  solid 
phalanx  might  march  to  the  assault  upon  the  new  religion. 
Each  saw  the  folly  of  all  systems  except  their  own,  and  each 
felt  their  own  condemned  along  with  others  by  the  truth  of 
God.  And  thus  we  see  it  is  at  the  present  d;iy.  All  men  per- 
ceive the  faults  and  follies  of  all  except  themselves,  yet  all 
unite  in  urging  the  charge  of  madness  against  the  serious  and 
consistent  servant  of  their  Lord.  The  Jew  despised  and  ab- 
horred the  idolatry  of  heathenism ;  and  the  heathen  looked 
with  equal  aversion  and  contempt  on  the  narrow  and  bigoted 
spirit  of  the  Jews ;  while  both  united  in  cruel  mockings  and 
bitter  persecutions  against  that  divine  and  perfect  system  before 
which  the  idolatry  of  heathenism  was  soon  to  disappear,  and 
the  bigotry  of  the  Jewish  system  was  to  be  lost  in  the  large- 
ness of  a  more  exalted  and  expansive  philanthropy.     The  ten- 


THE   CHA.RGE   OF   MADNESS.  205 

ants  of  a  lunatic  nsyhini,  though  each  unconscious  of  his  own 
malady,  often  perceive  the  raadjiess  of  their  fellow-sufterers. 
You  may  })robably  remember  the  anecdote  of  one  who  pointed 
out  to  a  visitor  the  madness  of  a  brother  Umatic.  He  was 
asked  to  state  the  evidence  of  liis  madness,  and  replied,  "  He 
fancies  himself  to  be  John  the  Baptist."  How  do  you  know 
that  he  is  not  John  the  Baptist  ?  "  Because  I  am  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  Baptist,"  and  then  claimed  for  himself  the 
name  and  the  attributes  of  the  Redeemer.  But  of  all  the 
tenants  of  Bedlam,  none  seems  more  strangely  and  hopelessly 
irrational  to  those  disoidered  minds  than  the  skilful  physician 
or  the  watchful  keeper,  who  would  heal  their  diseases  and 
restrain  their  madness. 

And  even  thus  do  we  find  it  among  that  large  and  restless 
crowd  who  are  hurrying  to  and  fro  with  anxious  steps  in  pur- 
suit of  imaginary  and  unreal  good.  The  man  of  business 
wonders  at  the  man  of  pleasure,  and  can  scarcely  excuse  mad- 
ness which  barters  away  all  future  health,  respectability,  and 
comfort  for  a  momentary  gratification.  But  he  forgets  at  once 
his  arithmetic  and  his  wisdom  when  he  comes  to  calculate  the 
wliole  profits  of  his  business.  He  had  gained  the  world,  but 
lost  his  soul.  The  philosophic  statesman  thinks  all  conquerors 
madmen,  from  Macedonia's  madman  to  the  Swede,  while  the 
man  of  literary  taste  beholds  only  madness  in  all  schemes  of 
public  ambition,  and  thinks  that  popular  applause,  whether 
won  in  the  senate  or  the  field,  scarcely  rewards  the  toil  that 
would  attain  it.  And  thus  is  the  charge  of  folly  handed 
around  from  man  to  man  among  us  :  each  wondering  at  the 
madness  of  mankind,  while  he  and  a  chosen  few^  are  guided  by 
the  principles  of  real  wisdom. 

Now,  suppose  that  a  man  of  perfect  wisdom  were  introduced 
into  this  l^edlafn,  that  the  principles  of  pure  and  unmixed  truth 
and  reason  were  exemplified  in  all  his  conduct  and  all  his  opin- 
ions, would  not  the  madness  of  all  be'  rebuked  by  his  actions 
and  his  character,  and  would  not  all  unite  in  charging  upon 
him  the  folly  which  existed  only  among  themselves?  Let  us 
not  wonder  that  the  Saviour  of  the  world   was  said  to  have 


20o  PAUL   VIXDICATED   FROM 

a  devil  and  to  be  raad  ;  or  tliat  those  of  his  disciples  who  fol- 
low in  his  footsteps  partake  of  his  reproach.  And  let  us 
ob.^erve  how  ingeniously  the  enemies  of  Christ  can  accommo- 
date their  charge  of  madness  to  the  circumstances  of  the  case. 
Is  Paul  mad  ? — it  is  from  learning :  is  Peter  mad  ? — it  is  from 
ignorance ;  and  thus  it  is  with  us.  To  refute  the  charge  of 
madness  we  point  to  the  men  who  have  stood  foremost  on 
every  field  of  noble  thought  and  lofty  conduct,  and  show  that 
they  were  Christians.  We  may  point  to  a  Ne^vton,  beyond 
all  controversy,  the  mightiest  mind  of  ancient  or  of  modern 
times,  who  saw  by  intuition  what  others  learned  by  slow  and 
laborious  study,  and  walked  with  confident  and  steady  step 
over  the  new  and  wondrous  fields  of  discovery,  where  others 
grow  dizzy  in  the  attempt  to  follow  him ;  who  lifted  the  veil 
from  nature  and  revealed  a  new  universe  to  our  astonished 
gaze,  and  returning  from  such  dazzling  and  magnificent  specu- 
lations, with  the  docility  of  cliildhood  and  the  humility  of  real 
genius,  gave  to  the  Word  of  God  the  same  honest  attention, 
and  the  intense  and  reverential  study  that  he  had  bestov^^ed 
upon  His  works.  But  they  tell  us  that  Kewton  was  so  daz- 
zled by  the  magnificence  of  his  discoveries  that  he  could  not 
accurately  discern  the  truth  on  other  subjects,  and  that  he  who 
was  so  great  in  the  philosophy  of  matter,  was  not,  after  all,  so 
deeply  versed  in  the  philosophy  of  mind  and  morals.  We 
turn  to  Locke,  the  j^rince  of  modern  met.iphysicians  ;  but  meta- 
physicians, they  say,  are  always  misty.  We  turn  to  Bacon, 
the  founder  of  all  modern  science,  the  teacher  of  all  modern 
philosophers  ;  to  Milton,  the  greatest  of  all  modern  poets ;  to 
Hale,  the  reformer  of  English  law,  and  Grotius,  the  founder  oi 
the  laws  of  nations ;  to  Washington,  the  greatest  of  modern 
patriots,  and  Wilberforce,  the  purest  of  modern  statesmen,  and 
most  distinguished  of  practical  philanthropists.  But  all  these 
were  mad,  mad  from  too  much  learning  or  too  little,  from 
too  much  intercourse  with  men,  or  too  close  confinement  to 
books.  Their  philosophy  was  too  shallow  or  too  deep;  their 
fancy  too  lively  or  too  dull ;  their  reasoning  too  subtle  or  too 
nndistinguishing  ! 


THE  CHARGE  OF  MADNESS.  207 

Now,  it  is  the  easiest  of  all  possible  arguments  against 
the  truth  of  the  Gospel,  or  a  practical  obedience  to  its  precepts, 
to  denounce  it  all  as  raa<lness,  but  certainly,  to  a  reflecting 
mind,  it  is  of  all  the  least  convincing.  Was  the  apostle  mad 
when  he  preferred  the  pure  and  exalted  morality  of  the  New 
Testament  to  the  debasing  and  polluting  systems  of  heathen- 
ism ?  AVas  he  mad  when  he  preferred  the  Jehovah  of  the 
Bible  to  the  Jupiter  of  paganism  ?  When  he  adopted  the  be- 
lief of  one  eternal,  immutable,  omnipresent,  and  holy  Creator, 
and  rejected  that  popular  mythology  which  peopled  heaven, 
earth,  and  hell,  and  sea  and  sky,  with  lords  many  and  gods 
many — the  creations  of  poetical  fancy — impure,  revengeful, 
weak,  rivalling  the  worst  of  men  in  h.orrid  crimes,  and  sc;ircely 
surpassing  the  mightiest  in  power?  Was  he  mad  when  he 
neglected  the  philosophy  of  his  day,  where  the  idlest  questions 
were  discussed  with  the  greatest  warmth  ;  and  men,  professing 
to  be  wise,  became  fools,  piling  high  doubt  upon  doubt,  until 
the  existence  of  God  and  the  immortality  of  the  soul  were 
buried  under  the  heaps  they  had  raised?  Was  he  mad  when 
he  cherished,  with  fondest  affection,  that  hope  of  immortality, 
which,  more  than  all  besides,  exalts  our  nature  above  the  beasts 
that  perish,  cheers  virtue  onward  in  its  path  of  duty,  and 
aheds  around  man's  darkest  hour  the  brightness  of  a  glory 
which  shall  never  fade  away  ?  Was  he  mad  when  he  preferred 
the  simple  beauty  of  the  Gospel  to  the  traditions  of  the  Jewish 
elders,  by  which  they  had  obscured  their  law  ?  When  he 
believed  the  predictions  of  the  prophet  who  so  long  before  had 
foretold  the  coming  of  the  Saviour,  his  sufferings,  and  his 
resurrection,  was  he  mad  because  he  did  not  disobey  the 
heavenly  vision,  but  finding  that  which  prophecy  had  foretold 
and  miracle  had  confirmed  to  his  senses,  he  testified  "  both  to 
small  and  great,  saying  no  other  things  than  those  wd]ich  the 
prophets  and  Moses  did  say  should  come"  ?  And  are  we  mad, 
ray  Christian  brethren,  because  we  live  according  to  the  precepts 
of  the  Saviour,  and  cherish  the  hopes  which  he  has  kindled, 
and  mercifully  placed  before  us  ? 

I  believe  tiiere  is  a  Go  1  that  ruleth  in  the  heavens,  whosa 


208  PAUL   VINDICATED   FROM 

eyes  behold,  whose  eyelids  try,  the  children  of  men  ;  a  God 
whose  holiness  is  without  spot,  and  his  power  without  bounds. 
Am  I  a  madman,  then,  when  I  seek  to  obtain  his  favor,  and 
avoid  his  coming  wrath  ;  when  I  consecrate  to  his  service  the 
powers  which  liis  goodness  and  mercy  liave  given  at  first,  and 
still  continue  for  my  welfare  ?  I  look  within  and  I  find  my- 
self endowed  with  capacities  of  enjoyment  and  suffering  which 
are  not  of  this  world.  I  perceive  hopes  which  dart  forward 
into  eternity,  and  fears  that  hurry  onward  to  the  bar  of  God. 
I  feel  a  longing  after  immortality,  a  stirring  as  if  of  some 
divinity  within  me,  a  grasping  after  something  infinite  and  eter- 
nal, vague  aspirations  after  a  peace  which  passeth  understand- 
ing, which  this  world  can  never  bestow :  a  joy  inefl^able  and 
full  of  glory.  I  feel  that  to  such  high  powers  belongs  a  cor- 
responding destiny.  Am  I  a  madman,  then,  when  I  aim  to 
reach  the  destiny  before  me,  to  fulfil  the  high  design  of  my 
existence,  to  employ  the  powers  which  God  has  given,  accord- 
ing to  the  precepts  of  his  holy  word  ?  I  have  a  soul  to  save. 
I  have  a  heaven  to  secure.  I  have  before  me  an  immortality 
of  joy  or  woe.  I  lie  under  a  fearful  responsibility.  Interests 
too  large  for  human  comprehension,  too  enduring  for  human 
calculation,  vast  as  the  value  of  the  soul,  and  durable  as  its 
long  existence,  depend  upon  my  conduct.  Will  you  call  me 
mad  if  I  stir  myself  up  to  lay  liold  on  the  magnitude  of  the 
work  before  me,  if  I  gird  up  the  loins  of  my  understanding,  if 
I  summon  every  po\ver  to  the  great  undertaking,  if  I  look 
coldly  upon  worldly  pleasures  and  worldly  honors,  if  absorbed 
in  the  great  business  of  eternity  I  have  no  leisure  for  the  fri- 
volities of  time,  no  relish  for  its  light  and  unsubstantial  enjoy- 
ments ?  When  the  wine  sparkles  in  the  cup,  and  the  music 
floats  by  in  full  and  voluptuous  swell,  and  the  dance  goes 
gayly  and  merrily  on,  am  I  mad  if  I  suppose  there  is  some 
other  employment  more  w^orthy  of  a  rational  and  immortal  be- 
ing, if  I  cast  my  thoughts  onward  to  the  songs  and  the  melody 
of  heaven,  and  think  of  the  g^roans  and  agjonies  which  ascend 
with  the  smoke  of  their  torment  from  the  bottomless  pit  ?  Am 
I  mad  when  I  \ise  the  world  as  not  abusing  it,  and  looking  up- 


THE   CHARGE   OF   MA.DNKSS.  209 

Avai\l  to  the 'invisible  and  eternal  one,  live  as  a  stranger  and  a 
pilgrim  here?  Xo,  he  is  not  a  madman  who  thus  lives,  and 
thus  prepares  to  die.  But  he  is  mad  who,  in  all  the  light  of 
the  Gospel,  closes  his  eyes  against  it  all ;  who,  with  the  glad 
news  of  salvation  sounding  in  his  ears,  lives  as  if  he  had  no 
ears  to  hear  or  heart  to  understand. 

I  knew  a  young  man  once,  I  say  not  where,  but  well  I  knew 
him,  with  talents  of  the  highest  order,  and  an  education  com- 
pletely to  develop  them  all.  With  a  mind  keenly  sensitive  to 
beauty  of  every  kind,  a  taste  developed  in  early  life,  he  soon 
possessed  a  relish  for  the  ancient  classics.  The  language 
of  antiquity  became  almost  as  his  mother  tongue,  and  the 
poets  and  orators  and  historians  of  Greece  and  Rome  as  famil- 
iar to  his  boyhood  as  the  writers  of  the  English  language. 
With  admii-ation  for  the  great  men  of  antiquity,  he  imbibed 
their  love  of  glory,  their  restless,  burning,  insatiable  ambition, 
and  along  with  the  sensitiveness  of  genius  he  had  its  love  of 
high  excitement,  and  was  a  voluptuary,  now  in  literature,  now 
in  sensual  indulgence.  He  was  early  touched  by  the  Spirit  of 
God,  and  brought  to  see  his  sinfulness  and  danger,  but  strug- 
gled long  and  boldly  struggled  against  its  heavenly  influen- 
ces. God's  spirit  will  not  always  strive,  and,  like  ten  thousand 
others,  he  was  left  to  the  madness  of  his  own  mind  and  the 
hardness  of  his  own  heart.  He  sought  relief  in  scepticism,  as 
others  seek  it  in  spirits,  and  finding  it  an  opiate,  foj-got  it  was 
a  poison.  He  read  and  read  again  all  the  sceptical  authors  of 
our  language.  He  dived  deeper  into  the  stream  of  pleasure,  and, 
now  dreaming  of  philosophy,  and  now  longing  after  glory,  and 
now  running  after  indulgence,  he  passed  from  youth  to  man- 
hood, and  when  I  last  conversed  with  him  he  told  me  with  a 
bitter  smile  that  his  character  answered  to  that  of  the  sceptic 
described  by  Johnson  in  his  Rambler^  who  had  doubted  all 
that  was  good  and  true  and  lovely,  till  he  had  alienated  all 
friendship  and  lost  all  love,  and  was  severed  from  all  the  sym- 
pathies and  affections  of  human  life.  He  is  still  alive,  and,  in 
the  city  where  he  now  resides,  fills  a  most  conspicuous  station 
in  the  public  mind.     He  may  yet  live  to  be  great,  for  his  tal- 


210  PAUL   YIXDICATED   FROM 

ents  are  uncommon,  and  his  ambition  boundless.  He  may  rise 
to  be  the  wonder  and  envy  of  all  around  him,  but  he  cannot 
be  happy.  And  should  one  hereafter  meet  him  in  the  full  tide 
of  his  success,  midway  in  his  career  of  anticipated  glory — 
though  thousands  should  hang  with  rapture  on  his  lips,  and^ 
senates  should  yield  to  the  power  of  his  eloquence — and  in  the 
language  of  honest  truth  tell  him  he  was  mad,  his  own  heart, 
in  the  bitterness  of  its  anguish,  would  too  sadly  confirm  the 
truth  of  the  charge.  For,  alas  !  all  his  high  endowments  have 
been  perverted,  his  precious  privileges  misimproved,  the  fond 
expectations  of  devoted  Christian  friends  all  disappointed,  the 
liiiv  promise  of  his  youth  all  blighted,  and  though  the  rains 
may  descend,  and  the  sun  may  shine,  and  the  dew  may  fall, 
yet  will  they  never  revive  again.  And  without  a  miracle  of 
mercy,  the  bitter,  burning  curse  of  God  must  pursue  him  on 
through  life,  and  soon  the  applause  of  juen  must  be  exchanged 
for  that  indignation  and  everlasting  contempt  which  must  be 
the  portion  of  the  sinner's  cup  forever.  If  there  be  madness 
in  the  world,  is  there  not  madness  here  ? 

But  suppose  the  picture  to  be  reversed,  and  instead  of  those 
gigantic  powers  urged  on  to  wild  and  irregular  action  by  the 
fitful  stimulus  of  unsanctified  passions,  you  perceive  the  same 
large  capacities  calmly,  graduall  v,  yet  surely  developing  them- 
selves under  the  mild  influence  of  gospel  truth,  adding  each  day 
fresh  knowledge  to  its  stores,  and  new  virtue  to  adorn  its  charac- 
ter, pressing  forward  with  the  settled  energy  of  Christian  reso- 
lution toward  the  highest  perfection  of  its  nature,  and  conse- 
crating to  Him  who  gave  them  all,  the  faculties  thus  enlarged 
and  strengthened,  while  the  blessed  power  of  a  pervading 
moral  principle  is  difi'used  throughout  to  purify  and  elevate  and 
harmonize  the  whole.  And  oii !  if  this  be  a  spectacle  which 
might  call  forth  the  aj^probation  of  ano-els,  and  excite  even  th.e 
reverence  of  mankind,  it  is  when  genius  is  thus  allied  to  piety, 
the  highest  intellectual  and  highest  moral  Avorth  happily 
united,  and  the  most  exalted  powers  devoted  to  tlie  noblest 
purposes.  On  such  a  one  we  gaze  with  admiration,  even  when 
we  do  not  imitate.    And  as  we  stand  bv  his  grave  and  remeui- 


THE  CHARGE   OF   MADNKSS.  '211 

bor  his  virtues,  we  cannot  but  feel  how  blessed  is  the  wisdom 
of  true  religion,  and  anxiously  wish,  as  did  Balaam,  may  I 
die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  my  last  end  be  like  his. 

I  cannot  but  think  that  some  of  you  are  often  convinced  of 
the  madness  of  your  course.  That  must  be  a  deep. sleep  Avhich, 
during  long  years  of  sin,  knows  no  Avaking.  That  must  be,  in- 
deed, a  feai-ful  madness  in  which  there  are  no  lucid  intervals, 
in  which  no  light  ever  bursts  in  upon  the  darkened  mind,  no 
consciousness  flashes  over  the  soul,  no  solemn  apprehension 
that  all  may  not  be  right.  Ah,  well  do  I  know  that  such  an 
apprehension  has  sometimes  visited  each  of  you.  O  sinner ! 
cherish  it  as  you  would  your  own  life's  blood.  It  is  the  first 
beam  of  light  on  your  beclouded  soul,  the  dawn  of  day  on 
your  benighted  understanding.  It  is  the  voice  of  God  by  his 
word,  his  providence,  or  his  Spirit,  inviting  you  to  those  ways 
of  wisdom  which  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  to  those  paths  whicli 
are  paths  of  peace.  Oh,  think,  with  shame  and  penitence,  and 
wonder,  on  the  folly  of  your  past  life.  God  from  on  high  has 
called  you  to  himself.  The  Saviour  of  sinners  has  stretched 
out  his  arms  of  love  and  pointed  to  his  bleeding  side.  The 
Holy  Spirit  has  oiFered  his  saving  influences,  and  yet  you  have 
despised  them  all.  Heaven  is  opened  to  receive  you,  and  you 
heed  it  not.  Hell  g^  pes  to  engulf  you,  you  regard  it  not. 
The  thunders  of  the  Vaw  peal  over  your  head,  the  kind  and 
tender  invitations  of  the  Gospel  sound  in  your  ears,  yet  all  in 
vain.  Every  day  may  be  your  last,  yet  every  day  is  spent  in 
sin.  Every  night  may  prove  to  you  the  beginning  of  eternal 
darkness,  but  you  coolly  and  carelessly  meet  its  danger.  Every 
moment  is  loaded  with  mercies,  and  every  moment  devoted  to 
folly.  The  retributions  of  eternity  are  hurrying  on,  yet  you  are 
altogether  absorbed  in  the  pursuits  of  time.  Youreternal  destiny 
rests  upon  your  own  conduct  and  exertions,  yet  are  you  childish- 
ly wasting  the  hours  which  alone  can  secure  your  everlasting- 
welfare.  It  is  as  if  a  general  on  whose  eftbrts  the  welfare  of  a 
nation  depended  should  waste  his  liours  in  the  childish  sports 
of  the  nursery  while  his  country's  destiny  hung  in  trembling 
and  fearful  suspense.    It  is  as  if  one  should  gather  gay  flowers 


212  PAUL  VINDICATED   FROM,   ETC. 

and  weave  bright  garlands,  and  sing  merry  songs  on  the  verj'- 
edge  of  a  volcano,  whose  heaving  sides  and  boiling  crater 
already  told  that  the  danger  was  at  hand,  and  that  the  hot 
and  liquid  lava  should  soon  sweep  away  in  its  resistless  tor- 
rent, man,  beast,  forests,  cities — faint  emblem  of  the  fiery  wrath 
which  shall  hereafter  desolate  the  earth. 

But  what  place  is  there  for  illustiation  or  comparison  ?  Xo 
madness  of  earth  is  like  the  madness  of  the  sinner.  It  is  only 
the  light  of  eternity  which  shall  reveal  its  true  character.  It 
is  only  the  agonies  of  perdition  which  can  measure  out  its 
greatness.  And  through  the  long  lapse  of  its  revolving  cen- 
turies shall  be  forced  still  more  and  more  deeply  on  the  soul 
the  fearful  consciousness,  how  great  is  the  folly  of  him  who  has 
preferred  the  amusement  of  a  few  days  on  earth  to  the  rewards 
of  the  just  in  heaven. 


IX. 

MxVN'S  CONDITION  AS  A  PRODIGAL  SON. 


Luke,  xv.  16. — "And  lie  would  fain  have  filled  his  belly  with  the  husks  that 
the  swine  did  eat." 


"VYe  have  in  this  chapter  a  remarkable  confirmation  of  the 
truth, "  that  God's  ways  are  not  as  our  ways,  nor  his  tlioughts  as 
our  thoughts."  In  the  commencement  of  the  chapter  we  are 
informed,  that  "  then  drew  near  unto  him  all  the  publicans  and 
sinners  for  to  hear  him.  And  the  Pharisees  and  Scribes  mur- 
mured, saying:  This  man  receiveth  sinners  and  eateth  with 
them."  It  was  in  reply  to  these  illiberal  and  bigoted  mur- 
murers  that  our  Saviour  uttered  the  parable  of  which  our  text 
forms  a  part,  as  well  as  the  two  which  immediately  precede  it. 
All  of  which  are  designed  to  sliow  that,  however  deep  the 
abhorrence,  however  scornful  tlie  contempt,  which  the  self- 
righteous  Pharisees  might  indulge  toward  those  whom  they 
were  pleased  to  stigmatize  as  sinners,  there  was  one,  the  purest 
and  holiest  of  all,  who  cherished  no  such  feelings.  There  was 
sympathy  for  them  in  heaven  amidst  all  their  degradation  and 
ruin ;  there  was  joy  among  the  angels,  even  over  one  sinner 
that  repented. 

The  Pharisees,  in  the  pride  of  their  imaginary  holiness,  had 
learned  to  despise  their  fellow-sinners  around,  perhaps  not 
more  sinful  than  themselves  ;  they  shrank  from  all  intercourse 
with  them,  as  they  avoided  leprosy,  as  if  contact  were  at  once 
defilement  and  infection :  while  the  Saviour,  pure,  immaculate, 
exalted  as  he  was,  "  in  whose  sight  the  heavens  are  unclean, 
and  who  chargeth  his  angels  with  folly,"  received  them  to 
himself,  mingled  in  all  the  intercourse  of  life  along  witii  them, 


214  MAXV^   CONDITION   AS   A   PaODIGAL,   SOX. 

and  spent  his  days  in  laboring  for  their  good.  Now  this  dif- 
ference of  conduct  and  feeling  is  founded  on  a  difference  of 
character  and  views.  Man  is  ever  prone  to  isolate  himself  nnd 
his  interests;  to  individualize  himself;  to  separate  himself 
from  the  great  community  of  beings  aV)ove  and  around  him ; 
to  withdraw  liis  thoughts  from  God's  universe,  of  which  he 
forms  a  part,  and  to  which  he  bears,  and  must  ever  bear,  most 
important  relations ;  and  fix  them  in  intensest  selfishness  upon 
himself.  Hence,  for  whatever  thwarts  his  interest,  or  shocks 
his  sensibilities,  or  disgusts  his  taste,  he  feels  no  sympathy 
and  cherishes  no  regard.  But  God  is  the  all-comprehending: 
lie  takes  in,  at  once,  the  individual  and  the  species,  the  world 
and  the  universe.  He  considers  each  one  a  part  of  the  whole. 
He  sees  in  the  lost  sheep  a  part  of  the  flock,  in  the  profligate 
son  one  of  the  family — in  every  individual,  polluted  and  de- 
graded as  he  may  be,  a  soul  that  he  has  created. 

This  is  one  out  of  many  cases  that  might  be  adduced  to  show 
that  the  superiority  of  the  moral  system  which  our  Saviour 
inculcated  is  founded  on  the  superior  enlargedness  of  his  views. 
Thus  they  mutually  confirm  each  other,  the  grandeur  of  the 
views  sustaining  the  authority  of  the  moral  principle  founded 
on  them,  and  the  purity  of  the  principle  establishing  the  cor- 
rectness of  the  views. 

Now  it  is  imjwssible  that  man,  the  limited  and  the  finite, 
should  found  his  moral  and  religious  systems  on  any  other 
views  than  those  which  are  likewise  limited  and  finite.  Hence 
all  human  systems  have  aimed  to  regulate  human  actions  on 
earthly  principles  and  views,  omitting  those  wider  relations 
which  we  bear  to  other  and  higher  parts  of  the  creation.  Such 
systems,  founded  on  earth,  can  never  reach  the  sky.  They  are 
as  defective  as  a  system  of  astronomy  which,  confining  its 
attention  to  the  eartli,  should  overlook  those  other  worlds 
belonging  to  the  system,  which,  though  immensely  distant,  yet 
revolve  along  with  it,  and  influence  materially  its  movements. 

Now  the  Infinite  and  Eternal  One  must,  from  the  necessity 
of  his  being,  view  all  human  character  and  human  relations 
under  a  far  diflferent  aspect  from  that  under  which  ihey  appear 


MAX'S   COXDITIOX    AS   A   PRODIGAL   SOX.  215 

t  >  nini.  Himself  infinite  and  eternal,  his  views  must  bear  the 
i';ipress  of  his  character.  And  when  such  a  one  appears  to 
instruct  and  ilhmiinate  mankind,  we  must  expect  to  perceive 
the  traces  of  a  mind  thus  conversant  with  large  and  universal 
views.  And  we  must  also  expect  that  the  relations,  the  prin- 
ciples, the  motives  which  he  reveals,  shall  be  universal,  infinite, 
eternal — comprehending,  as  he  does,  immensity  at  a  glance, 
present  to  all  time,  perv^ading  all  space,  following  on  the  con- 
sequences of  all  human  actions  as  they  roll  with  accumulating 
force  down  to  the  remotest  futurity,  and  observing  the  melan- 
choly consequences  of  the  slightest  disorder,  commencing  in  a 
minute  part,  and  extending  over  the  whole  of  so  extensive  and 
complicated  a  machinery.  We  must  not  be  sur2:)rised  if  his 
instructions  assume  a  graver  and  loftier  tone,  are  urged  with  a 
solemn  earnestness  unknown  to  earthly  instructors.  We  must 
not  be  astonished  if  a  new  and  wider  scene  should  open  before 
us,  actors  of  greater  number,  of  larger  stature  and  nobler  bear- 
ing, and  all  lighted  up  with  the  strong  clear  light  of  eternity. 

Now,  the  whole  system  of  Christian  truth  is  an  illustration 
of  these  remarks.  In  all  its  most  striking  and  characteristic 
parts,  we  behold  the  deep  impress  of  the  same  noble  and  ma.- 
jestic  mind,  familiar  with  all  large  and  elevated  views.  And 
we  know  nothing  in  the  whole  history  of  human  composition 
more  touching  or  sublime  than  the  rej)resentation  given  in  this 
parable  of  tlie  origin  and  destiny  of  man,  his  subsequent  aliena- 
tion from  God,  the  misery  in  which  he  has  thus  become  in- 
volved, the  deep  interest  felt  in  heaven  for  his  welfare,  and  the 
kind  and  parental  tenderness  with  which  he  is  welcomed  when 
returning  from  his  wanderings.  We  all  recognize  in  the  prodi- 
gal son  a  picture  of  our  own  folly,  and  in  the  father's  tender- 
ness, who  does  not  acknowledge  the  kind  and  condescending 
mercy  of  the  universal  maker  and  Father  of  all  ?  Let  us  con- 
sider some  of  these  topics  in  the  order  in  which  they  have  been 
mentioned. 

I.  The  Origin  and  Destiny  of  Man. 

What  am  I?  And  whence?  And  whither  am  I  tending? 
The  beasts  that  rove  around  and  fiercely  pursue  their  prey,  or 


216  MAN'S   COXDITION    AS   A   PRODIGAL   SOX. 

quietly  feeil  on  the  green  grass,  or  wander  along  the  calm 
waters,  here  fulfil  their  destiny.  Am  I  different  from  them,  or 
only  a  finer  materialism,  more  happily  organized,  more  inge- 
niously constructed  ?  Am  I  the  highest  of  created  intelligences  ? 
Does  the  ascending  series  close  in  man  ?  Or  are  there  other 
heings,  pure  intelligences,  and  ethereal  spirits  ?  "  Thousands 
of  spiritual  beings  may  walk  the  earth,"  and  people  the  sky, 
and  yet  they  hold  no  intercourse  with  me.  I  see  them  not.  I 
hear  them  not,  nor  are  they  palpable  to  any  of  my 'senses. 
And  although  in  the  hours  of  my  lonely  meditations  I  seem  to 
hold  intercourse  with  them,  and  have  "moments  like  their 
brightest,"  yet  my  daily  associations  are  with  the  dead  matter 
and  the  brute  animals  around  me,  and  my  nature  seems  more 
nearly  allied  to  them  than  to  aught  that  is  purer  and  more 
exalted.  He,  the  Great,  the  Invisible,  the  terrible  and  unknown 
One,  shut  out  from  all  human  gaze  by  the  dazzling  glory  that 
surrounds  him,  and  bnfliing  all  human  investigation  by  the 
untold  mysteries  of  his  wt)nderfal  existence.  He  that  tilleth 
immensity  and  dwelleth  in  light  that  is  inaccessible,  does  be 
look  down  from  the  throne  of  his  exaltation  with  tenderness 
on  me ;  or  am  I  an  incumbrance  on  his  earth,  the  creature  of 
chance,  springing  up  like  a  mushroom  at  night,  and  trodden 
down  and  forgotten  in  the  morning  ?  Shall  I  lie  down  at  last 
with  my  companions,  the  beasts  of  the  field,  in  that  long  sleep 
that  knows  no  waking,  or  is  there  a  world  where  the  living, 
feeling,  and  thinking  elements  within  me  shall  find  congenial 
society  and  suitable  employments? 

Such  are  the  anxious  inquiries  which  force  themselves  irre- 
sistibly on  the  minds  of  all  thinking,  reflecting  men.  Man  has 
always  been  a  mystery  to  himself,  a  riddle  and  a  contradic- 
tion. There  is  in  his  composition  such  a  mixture  of  high  and 
low,  of  good  and  bad,  of  noble  and  mean,  such  a  strange  com- 
bination of  opposing  qualities,  that  some  philosophers  have 
thouQ:ht  that  all  his  noble  feelinojs  were  the  feeble  reminiscences 
of  a  previous  state  of  being.  Others  have  considered  his  body 
as  unmixed  evil,  and  the  necessary  source  of  all  his  sins. 
While  others,  again,  have  supposed  his  soul  to  be  a  fragment 


MAN'S   CONDITION    AS   A   PRODIGAL   SON.  217 

from  abetter  world,  forced  off  by  some  powerful  and  malignant 
demon,  and  imprisoned  for  a  season  in  its  house  of  clay  and  in 
this  world  of  sin.  Magnificent  fiction  !  whose  extravagance 
one  might  almost  pardon  for  its  beauty,  how  much  superior  to 
the  dulness  of  modern  scepticism  !  Who  would  not  rather  be 
this  imprisoned  spirit,  faintly  mindful  of  its  origin,  and  strug- 
gling to  attain  its  liberty,  than  that  heartless,  soulless  thing, 
where  all  sense  of  virtue  and  purity  is  lost,  w^here  there  is 
no  remembrance  of  past  innocence,  and  no  sigh  after  future 
restoration  ? 

But  after  all  these  anxious  and  fruitless  speculations,  here, 
and  here  only,  do  we  find  the  truth :  we  are  the  children  of 
God.  Body  and  spirit,  we  are  his  children :  he  is  the  former 
of  our  bodies,  and  he  is  the  father  of  our  spirits.  We  were 
created  in  his  likeness  at  first,  "  in  knowledge,  in  righteousness, 
and  true  holiness,"  and,  notwithstanding  the  ruin  of  the  fall, 
part  of  that  likeness  still  remains.  Defaced  and  faded  though 
they  be,  yet  do  there  still  remain  some  lineaments  of  a  charac- 
ter which  was  once  jmre  and  heavenly.  None  is  completely 
pure,  yet  none  is  utterly  abandoned.  The  veriest  slave  to  lust 
and  sin  sometimes  awakes  to  a  sense  of  his  degradation,  and 
longs  to  burst  the  chains  that  bind  him.  There  are  some 
gleams  of  light  bursting  irregularly  forth  from  amidst  our 
moral  darkness.  There  are  fragments,  even  amidst  the  ruins 
of  our  nature,  which  testify  to  the  greatness  of  the  Author, 
and  our  own  original  grandeur.  Let  us  then  avoid  alike  de- 
spondency and  pride.  Though  children,  yet  are  we  wayward 
and  rebellious ;  fallen  and  ruined  though  we  be,  yet  are  we 
children  of  the  Most  High :  yet  doth  he  who  sitteth  in 
heaven  kindly  condescend  to  have  intercourse  with  us :  yet 
doth  he  permit  us  to  come  unto  him,  and  address  him  as  "  Our 
Father  who  art  in  heaven,"  and  who,  though  he  be  in  heaven, 
yet  looketh  down  with  eyes  of  pity  and  compassion  on  liis 
wandering,  erring  children  upon  earth,  opening  wide,  to  receive 
us,  the  arms  of  a  father's  love,  assuring  us  of  a  hearty  wel- 
come and  a  rich  inheritance,  endeavoring  to  reclaim  us  to  holi- 
ness and  happiness  and  heaven. 
10 


218  MAN'S   CONDITION   AS   A   PRODIGAL   SON. 

Let  us  learn  to  bear  with  and  love  one  another.  In  each 
one  there  is  a  Capacity,  a  susceptibility,  for  something  high  and 
noble.  It  is  the  perversion  of  these  capacities,  and  not  their 
utter  extinction,  which  constitutes  our  sin.  Let  us  unlearn 
contempt.  It  was  not  made  for  earth.  It  has  no  place  in 
heaven.  He  Avhom  thou  despisest  may  hereafter  be  thine 
equal  and  thy  friend.  He  is  even  now  thy  brother.  Despair 
not  of  thyself;  degraded  as  thou  art,  there  is  still  a  capacity 
for  good  within  thee ;  sold  as  thou  art  to  sin  and  Satan,  it  is 
a  voluntary  bondage.  They  are  not  thy  rightful  masters. 
Thou  art  the  servant,  nay,  by  birth  the  child,  of  God.  Those 
self-abhorrences  which  make  thee  shrink  from  the  society  of 
man,  that  deep  and  dark  remorse  which  drives  thee  from  the 
mercy  seat  of  God :  these  are  but  the  convulsive  struggles  of 
thy  higher  nature  endeavoring  to  cast  off  the  shameful  bond- 
age. It  is  the  sensibility  which  shows  that  life  and  hope  are 
there.  It  is  the  pain  which  w^arns  of  danger  and  arouses  to 
effort.  That  very  tastelessness  of  all  earthly  pleasures,  that 
dull  satiety  which  follows  sensual  indulgences,  and  makes  us 
loathe  the  very  objects  of  our  most  ardent  pursuit,  that  reach- 
ing after  something  higher  and  better  than  you  have  yet  en- 
joyed— all  points  thee  upward  to  thine  origin  and  thine  ex- 
alted destiny. 

The  very  restlessness  of  this  wayward  prodigal  proved  that 
he  was  in  a  strange  land,  far  from  his  father's  house,  far  from 
its  quiet  pleasures,  from  its  mild  restraints,  its  plentiful,  but 
wholesome  fare,  its  social  happiness,  its  accustomed  and  ap- 
propriate round  of  duties  and  enjoyments.  But,  alas  !  remem- 
ber thy  capabilities  and  thy  actual  accomplishments  are  alto- 
gether different  things.  Thine  original  destiny  and  thy  pres- 
ent condition  present  the  most  melancholy  contrast.  Man 
was  the  child  of  God,  but  he  has  made  himself  a  son  of  perdi- 
tion. He  was  formed  in  the  divine  image,  but  it  is  so  defaced 
and  marred  that  scarce  one  feature  remains  by  which  the 
likeness  can  be  discovered.  He  was  in  his  father's  house,  but 
he  has  wandered  away  from  that  holy  family,  and  cast  off  that 
paternal  government.     Great  were  his  endowments,  but  they 


MAN'S   CONDITION   AS  A   PRODIGAL  SON.  219 

have  all  been  perverted.  Rich  was  his  inheritance,  it  has  all 
been  squandered ;  high  was  his  station,  but  it  has  been  aban- 
doned, and  now,  poor  and  miserable  and  degraded,  he  appears 
the  wreck  of  what  he  was,  with  scarce  one  trace  of  what  he 
might  and  should  have  been.     Which  leads  to  remark — 

II.  Man's  alienation  from  God. 

We  are  informed  that  the  son,  distrusting  the  goodness  or  the 
wisdom  of  his  father,  or  disliking,  perhaps,  his  authority,  or 
anxious  to  assert  his  own  independence,  said,  "  Father,  give  me 
the  portion  of  goods  that  falleth  to  me."  And  then,  so  soon  does 
sin  follow  self-confidence,  so  closely  is  madness  allied  to  pride, 
"  not  many  days  after,  he  gathered  all  together,  and  took  a  jour- 
ney into  a  far  country."  When  he  had  left  his  father's  house, 
he  did  not  pause  in  his  immediate  neighborhood,  but  went  into  a 
far,  very  far  country.  His  father's  house  was  the  place  for  him. 
There  was  honor,  as  his  father's  son,  a  member  of  his  family ; 
there  was  safety  from  the  Aviles  of  designing  men  ;  there  was 
abundance,  enough  and  to  spare ;  there  was  employment  worthy 
of  his  character,  and  suitable  to  his  capacities — to  be  about  his 
father's  business ;  there  was  wisdom  to  guard  him  against  his 
own  imprudence  and  folly  ;  affection  to  bear  with  his  weakness 
and  faults  ;  power  to  protect  him  from  every  foe;  purity  to 
preserve  from  corruption,  and  the  soft  influence  of  that  do- 
mestic peace  and  love  which,  more  than  wisdom  and  authority 
and  power,  mould  the  heart  and  soul  of  man :  which  is  itself 
the  deepest  wisdom,  the  holiest  authority,  the  gentlest,  but  the 
most  irresistible  power.  Oh,  how  mad  is  he  who,  bursting  the 
bands  that  so  gently  yet  powerfully  bind  him,  and  casting 
these  cords  of  love  recklessly  away  from  him,  wanders  ofl*  into 
a  strange  land,  far  from  his  father's  house,  and  there,  forgetful 
of  all  those  kind  aftections  which  centre  still  on  him,  of  the 
gentle  form  which  knelt  beside  him  and  taught  him  to  repeat 
childhood's  first  simple  prayer;  and  of  that  venerable  face 
which,  Avhen  the  evening  hour  came,  glowed  with  a  holy  joy, 
as  he  said,  "  Come  let  us  worship  God,"  and  then  commended 
all  to  the  care  of  Him  who  is  the  father  of  the  whole  family  in 
heaven  and  earth — dashes  heedlessly  on  in  his  career  of  sensual 


220  MANS   COXDITIOX    AS   A    PRODIGAL  SON. 

indulgences,  from  folly  to  vice,  from  vice  to  crime,  till  he,  who 
was  a  father's  pride  and  a  mother's  joy,  is  the  disgrace  of  his 
species.  He  who  might  have  been  an  ornament  to  society 
sinks  to  the  level  of  the  brutes  that  perish.  For  observe,  when 
he  wandered  away,  he  Avent  not  alone,  he  gathered  all  together, 
and  wasted  all.  All  that  his  father's  love  had  given,  all  that 
his  father's  care  had  laid  up  in  store,  all  his  rich  inheritance, 
his  all  was  gone.  Truly,  "  one  sinner  destroyeth  much  good.'* 
And  may  we  not  here  observe  a  striking  analogy  to  the  course 
pursued  by  each  one  of  us  ?  Has  not  each  one  of  us  wandered 
away  from  God  ?  First,  we  have  laid  claim  to  our  father's 
property.  We  have  felt  that  we  were  our  own,  that  our 
faculties,  our  time,  our  influence,  our  all,  are  ours,  to  use  at  our 
pleasure.  We  have  not  desired  that  he  should  reign  over  us. 
Restless  under  the  control  of  liis  perfect  law,  we  have  desired 
to  be  our  own  masters ;  ungrateful  for  his  present  favors,  and 
his  promised  inheritance,  we  have  thought  his  benefits  no 
blessings,  so  long  as  his  gifts  were  attended  with  an  obliga- 
tion, so  long  as  the  Creator  and  Upholder  of  all  claims  an 
ownership  in  the  works  of  his  hands,  and  a  rightful  dominion 
over  the  creatures  of  his  power.  Hence  we  have  left  the 
household  of  his  love  and  obedience.  We  have  wandered 
from  his  family.  At  first  we  designed,  perhaps,  to  remove  but 
a  short  distance,  but,  step  by  step,  as  inclination  guided,  or 
temptation  seduced,  or  heedlessness  misled,  we  have  wandered 
farther  und  farther  away,  till  we  are  indeed  in  a  far  country, 
at  a  fearful  distance  from  God.  As  that  wayward  son  wandered 
from  the  home  of  his  childhood,  no  doubt,  he  passed  with 
"  mournful  steps  and  slow,"  and  often,  as  some  recollection  of 
infancy  would  cross  his  mind,  or  the  sight  of  some  familiar 
object,  or  some  well-known  sound  would  call  up  ten  thousand 
images  of  past  delight,  the  tear  would  glisten  in  his  eye,  and 
his  bosom  swell  and  throb  with  strong  emotion.  And  as  he 
stood  upon  the  distant  hill,  whence  he  could  catch  the  last 
glimpse  of  that  home  of  purity  and  peace,  its  white  smoke 
rising  tranquilly  in  the  air,  its  indistinct  murmur  borne,  al- 
most inaudibly,  on  the  breeze,  and  the  venerable  form  of  that 


MAN'S  CONDITION   AS   A   PRODIGAL  SON.  221 

afflicted  father  still  gazing  anxiously  after  him,  and  praying 
blessings  on  his  head,  jDerhaps  his  resolution  might  have 
failed ;  but  he  gazed  at  his  rich  treasure,  and  he  summoned 
his  youthful  pride,  and  joining  the  first  wayward  traveller  like 
himself;  he  hastened  forward,  forgetting  all,  till  there  was  a 
famine  in  the  land. 

Even  so  it  is  with  you.  Ah  !  well  do  I  know  that  the  lii'st 
steps  in  sin  are  full  of  sorrow.  When  you  first  left  your  father's 
liouse,  you  did  not  design  to  abandon  it  forever,  nor  to  wander 
far,  and  "  many  a  longing,  lingering  look  did  you  cast  behind." 
You  thought,  perhaps,  to  enjoy  a  temporary  freedom,  to  take 
your  station  on  some  eminence  near  at  hand,  whence  you  could 
gaze  on  one  side  at  all  the  glories  of  the  world  abroad,  and  on 
the  other  look  down  upon  that  ancient  and  still  respected 
mansion.  But  pride,  fashion,  example,  ambition,  pleasure, 
avarice  have  led  you  on  till  now  you  are  far  away.  Alas  ! 
how  far,  till  at  last  there  is  no  fear  of  God  before  your  eyes, 
no  thought  of  God  in  your  minds,  no  love  of  God  in  your 
hearts,  no  service  of  God  in  your  lives,  and  for  all  the  pur- 
poses of  a  real  and  practical  influence,  the  case  is  just  the 
same  as  if  there  were  really  no  God  that  ruleth  in  the  heavens, 
and  takes  cognizance  of  man.  As  if  the  dark  tenets  of  the 
atheist  were  true,  and  you  had  no  present  lawgiver,  and  no 
future  judge,  ah !  attempt  not  to  conceal  it  from  yourself. 
You  have  gone  far  away  from  God,  far  from  the  influence  of 
his  truth,  far  from  the  restraints  of  his  authority,  far  from  the 
holiness  of  his  requirements,  far  from  the  obligations  of  his 
law.  And  you  have  endeavored  to  put  God  fxr  away  from 
you,  to  put  from  you  the  invitations  of  his  love,  the  threaten- 
ings  of  his  wrath,  the  strivings  of  his  spirit.  But  though  far 
from  God,  he  is  nigh  to  every  one  of  you.  Yes,  there  is,  un- 
seen, unfelt,  a  mysterious  and  fearful  agency  above,  around, 
within  you,  pervading  all,  upholding  all,  controlling  all,  in 
whom  you  live  and  move  and  have  your  being.  Ah,  how 
shall  you  flee  from  that  all-embracing  presence,  or  escape  that 
all-seeing  eye,  or  go  beyond  the  reach  of  that  all-grasping,  all- 
sustaining  hand.     Let  us  proceed  then  to  consider : — 


222  MAN'S  CONDITION  AS  A  PRODIGAL   SON. 

III.  The  degradation  and  misery,  which  sin  has  brought  on 
man. 

God  is  light,  and  when  far  from  him,  we  must  be  in 
darkness.  God  is  love,  and  when  far  from  him,  man  is  the 
sport  of  all  angry  and  conflicting  passions.  God  is  the  source 
of  blessedness,  the  fountain  from  which  do  flow  perpetually 
the  streams  of  joy  that  make  glad  the  hearts  of  men.  When  far 
from  him  our  joy  is  an  earthly  current,  now  dashing  impetuously 
forward,  and  bearing  on  its  bosom  the  ruins  its  violence  hath 
made,  polluted  by  the  soil  over  which  it  swept,  now  creeping 
slowly  and  sluggishly  along,  amidst  the  filth  its  torrent  hath 
accumulated,  now  still  and  motionless,  its  surface  glittering 
with  the  rainbow's  hues,  while  all  beneath  is  stagnant,  putrid, 
pestilential.  God  is  infinite  in  all  his  perfections,  in  wisdom, 
in  holiness,  in  power,  and  in  proportion  as  we  depart  from  the 
complete  symmetry  of  his  most  exalted  character  are  we  de- 
graded in  the  scale  of  intellectual  and  moral  excellence. 

Man  was,  at  first,  formed  in  the  image  of  God.  The  precise 
import  of  this  remarkable  expression,  it  is  impossible  for  us 
now  to  determine.  But  this  we  know,  that  he  was  constituted 
lord  of  this  lower  creation,  that  he  was  God's  representative 
on  earth,  endowed  with  high  capacities  of  thought  and  feeling, 
capable  of  knowing  and  loving  and  rejoicing  in  God,  and 
looking  abroad  with  a  devout  and  intelligent  observation  on 
the  works  of  his  hands.  Perhaps  we  may  form  some  estimate 
of  his  character  and  position  by  observing  the  purest  and  most 
exalted  of  our  species  in  their  happiest  hours,  when  the  heart 
is  liveliest  in  its  emotions,  and  the  mind  most  vigorous  in  its 
action.  Relieved  from  the  cares  that  perplex,  and  the  passions 
that  agitate,  man  looks  calmly,  freely,  joyously  around,  and 
diff'uses  over  earth  and  sky  the  calm  serenity  of  his  own 
deeply  tranquil  feelings,  the  brightness  of  his  own  glowing 
thoughts.  From  the  moments  such  as  these  we  may  catch 
some  glimpse,  however  faint :  we  may  form  some  conception, 
however  inadequate,  of  man's  condition  in  his  unfallen  state. 
Nay,  do  we  not  feel  within  ourselves  a  longing  after  something 
we  do  not  reach :  an  inborn  fitness  for  something  we  do  not 


MAN'S  CONDITION   AS   A    PRODIGAL  SON.  223 

attain  ?  Are  tliere  not  transient  bursts  of  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings, momentary  flashes  of  a  flame  that  is  smothered,  not  ex- 
tinguished, revelations  of  something  unutterably  higher,  purer, 
lovelier,  worthier,  than  those  which  occupy  our  lives  ?  Is 
tliere  not  the  deep  and  solemn  consciousness  of  capabilities, 
far  above  the  power  of  earth  to  employ;  of  infinite  desires,  far 
too  large  for  earth  to  fill?  How  strong  is  the  proof  which 
these  attbrd,  that  we  have  fallen  far  below  our  destiny  and 
have  immeasin*ably  degraded  our  high  capacities. 

How  various,  liow  extensive,  how  exalted,  and  how  pure  are 
the  sources  of  enjoyment  placed  within  our  reach.  All  nature 
is  spread  out  before  us  in  its  magnificence  and  beauty,  to  ob- 
serve and  to  enjoJ^  Everywhere  there  are  springs  of  joy 
bubbling  and  flowing  around  us :  in  the  works  of  God,  in 
tlie  society  of  man,  in  our  own  inmost  bosom,  in  the  services 
of  God's  sanctuary  now,  in  tlie  anticipation  of  his  presence 
hereafter,  in  the  study  of  his  blessed  Word,  and  in  the  joyful 
foretaste  of  its  promised  rewards  through  faith  which  gives 
present  reality  to  future  blessings  and  commences  heaven  on 
earth  as  a  pledge  of  heaven  above.  Yet  how  little  relish  do 
we  feel  for  such  pure  and  exalted  pleasure.  How  greedily  do 
we  feast  on  lower  and  sensual  delis^hts.  Man  did  eat  ansjels' 
food,  but  now  he  feeds  on  husks  and  grovels  with  swine.  He 
has  left  the  true  sources  of  happiness,  and  his  longing,  aching 
heart  now  fastens  upon  whatever  will  yield  a  temporary  relief, 
however  low  and  polluting.  It  is  said  in  tlie  expressive  lan- 
guage of  the  original  that  the  prodigal  son  was  "  glued  "  to 
the  people  and  the  things  of  the  land  to  which  he  wandered. 
And  oh,  how  closely  do  we  cling  to  the  objects  of  our  un- 
worthy choice.  Though  convinced  of  their  folly  and  sinful- 
ness yet  do  we  adhere  to  them  still,  though  disappointed  in 
their  promised  pleasantness,  yet  do  we  cling,  with  the  energy 
of  despair,  to  the  delusions  which  have  so  long  mocked  us, 
tiiough  resolved,  again  and  again,  to  abandon  them  forever, 
to  assert  the  claims  of  our  rational  and  immortal  nature,  yet 
do  we  return  again  as  beneath  the  spell  of  some  mighty  fasci- 
nation. 


224  MAX'S   COXDITION  AS  A  PRODIGAL   SON. 

We  need  not  allude  to  the  drunkard,  the  debauchee,  the 
abject  slave  of  sensual  appetites  or  fiendish  passions.  These 
are  the  last  stage  of  man's  degradation  and  misery,  but  all 
the  intermediate  degrees  are  alike  devoid  of  genuine  and  ra- 
tional enjoyment.  Man  seeks  for  "v\^ealth :  he  obtains  it,  but 
finds  a  vacuum  which  Avealth  cannot  fill ;  honor,  but  there  are 
necessities  which  titles  cannot  supply ;  pleasure,  the  cup  is 
dashed  untasted  from  the  lips  or  drunk  desperately  up,  spark- 
ling at  the  brim,  but  at  the  bottom  dregs  and  bitterness.  The 
horse  grazes  quietly  in  his  green  pasture ;  the  herds  wander 
contentedly  by  the  still  waters ;  the  bird  wings  his  way  joy- 
fully through  the  morning  air,  or  sweetly  carols  forth  his 
cheerful  song  as  the  day  declines.  Why  then  is  man  anxious, 
restless,  dissatisfied ;  why  could  not  the  prodigal  feed  as  quietly 
as  his  swine  ?  Ah,  his  nature  w^as  different !  Avhat  was  nourish- 
ment for  swine  was  degradation  and  misery  to  him.  And  let 
me  appeal  to  you  all,  and  affectionately  ask,  if  in  all  the  ardor 
of  your  sinful  pursuits,  in  the  wildest  vehemence  of  your 
young  passions,  have  you  not  felt  the  folly  and  meanness  of 
them  all?  Have  you  not  felt  the  consciousness  of  something 
nnutterably  better  thrill  over  you  like  the  memory  of  some 
lost  hour  of  bliss,  when  the  stillness  of  the  Sabbath,  or  the 
fii-eside  of  piety,  or  solitude  and  sickness  have  given  you 
h'isure  for  honest  consideration,  or  the  recollection  of  child- 
hood's prayers  and  childhood's  simple  faith  has  recalled  images 
of  purity  and  bliss  now  gone  perhaps  forever  ? 

How  mean  then  appear  all  w^orldly  passions :  how  exalted, 
how  pure,  how  blissful  the  service  of  the  Lord.  The  path  of  the 
righteous  grows  brighter  and  brigliter  to  the  perfect  day.  The 
way  of  the  ungodly  is  not  so.  The  way  of  the  sinner  is  hard. 
He  is  going  against  his  own  conscience,  and,  till  that  power 
is  eradicated  from  his  bosom,  vain  are  his  efforts  to  be  at  peace 
in  sin.  He  is  going  against  his  own  interests,  which  are  all  on 
the  side  of  holiness,  against  all  the  higher  and  better  princi- 
ples of  his  nature.  Reason  condemns  his  course  as  unwise ; 
feeling  denounces  it  as  ungrateful  and  unjust.  He  is  acting 
against  God's  authority,  commandments,  and  powder;  and  wlio 


MAN'S  CONDITION   AS  A  PRODIGAL  SON.  225 

can  contend  with  Him  and  i^rosper?  He  has  cast  oif  that 
"  yoke  which  is  easy,  and  that  burden  which  is  light,"  and 
calls  himself  free,  but  he  is  the  bondslave  of  Satan,  who  reign- 
eth  in  the  children  of  disobedience :  in  abject  servitude  to  all 
the  lowest  or  worst  desires  of  his  nature,  and  at  their  com- 
mand does  he  meanly  sacrifice  peace,  virtue,  dignity,  health, 
happiness,  all  that  is  dearest  on  earth,  and  his  soul's  salvation. 
Ah,  it  is  a  hard  service,  the  service  of  Satan !  It  is  a  cruel 
bondage,  the  bondage  to  sin.     Now  for  all  this, — 

IV.  What  is  the  remedy  ? 

Your  misery  and  degradation  commenced  in  leaving  your 
father's  house  :  the  only  remedy  is  in  a  speedy  return,  I  will 
arise,  said  the  prodigal,  and  go  to  my  father.  And  observe 
the  process  through  which  he  passed : — 

1st.  He  came  to  himself,  felt  the  real  misery  and  degradation 
of  his  state.     So  must  you. 

2d.  Reflected  seriously  on  the  folly  of  his  course :  "  How 
many  hired  servants  of  my  father's  have  bread  and  to  spare." 

3d.  He  resolved,  I  will  arise  and  go  to  my  father,  I  will  act, 
not  lament,  not  despair,  not  w^ait  indolently  for  God's  mercy, 
but,  while  God  is  operating  on  me,  I  will  act. 

4th.  He  repented,  and  confessed. 

5th.  Observe  the  result. 
10* 


X. 

THE    WORTH   OF   THE    SOUL. 


Mark,  viii.  36,  37. — ''  For  what  shall  it  profit  a  man,  if  he  shall  gain  the 
whole  world,  and  lose  his  own  soul?  Or  what  shall  a  man  give  in  ex- 
change for  his  soul  ?"       

There  is  no  prejudice  more  hostile  to  the  influences  of  the 
Gospel  upon  the  hearts  of  sinners,  than  that  one,  so  widely 
prevalent  among  worldly  men,  which  represents  religion  as  a 
dreamy  and  visionary  thing,  its  most  solemn  and  momentous 
truths  as  unsubstantial  and  impalpable  abstractions,  appealing 
only  to  excited  passions,  or  a  lively  fancy,  and  having  nothing 
to  do  with  the  plain  downright  every-day  realities  of  life. 
Kow  we  have  been  accustomed  to  view  the  matter  in  exactly  the 
opposite  light,  and  to  suppose,  that  of  all  plain  things,  religion 
w^as  the  plainest,  and  that  of  the  innumerable  questions  which 
agitate  mankind,  the  questions  which  it  proposes  are  at  once 
the  most  eminently  practical,  and  require  for  their  solution 
the  easiest  and  the  most  common  of  all  considerations. 

You  are  men  of  business.  The  question  we  propose  to-day 
is  one  of  prudential  calculation,  for  prudent  business  men — 
a  question  of  simple  arithmetic,  of  profit  and  loss,  in  the  busi- 
ness of  your  lives.  It  is  a  question  for  every  man  ;  a  fair  ques- 
tion in  which  no  advantage  is  sought,  or  can  be  taken.  It  is 
but  casting  up  the  accounts  and  striking  the  balance.  You 
boast  of  the  accuracy  of  your  calculations,  and  the  precision 
with  which,  even  in  the  most  complicated  settlement,  you  can 
attain  the  true  result ;  and  how  in  any  ofi^ered  speculation,  how- 
ever attractive  or  inviting,  you  are  accustomed  to  try  its 
promises  by  the  strictest  calculations,  and  test  every  delusive 


THE   WORTH  OF  THE   SOUL.  227 

appearance  by  the  simple  comparison  of  the  profit  and  the 
loss.  Xovv  it  is  just  to  such  an  operation  that  we  invite  you 
to-day.  We  make  no  appeal  to  your  passions,  or  your  fancy. 
We  address  your  reason,  your  cool,  dispassionate,  nnbiassed, 
calculating  reason.  And  we  ask  you  to  tell  us  how  much  he 
is  profited  who  gains  the  world  and  loses  his  soul ;  and  that 
our  decision  may  be  the  more  accurate,  let  us  consider  first, 
What  it  is  to  gain  the  world;  secondly.  What  it  is  to  lose 
the  soul ;  and  thirdly,  What  it  is  to  lose  the  soul  without 
gaining  the  world. 

I.  What  is  it  to  gain  the  world  ? 

We  take  it  for  granted  at  the  outset,  that  on  this  one  point 
we  are  agreed,  that  many  among  us  are  really  selling  their 
souls,  and  may  have  already  sold  them  for  the  world.  It  is 
impossible,  indeed,  to  observe  for  a  moment  the  course  of  hu- 
man aifairs  around  us,  without  perceiving  that  of  all  the  forms 
of  earthly  traffic  this  is  the  most  universal.  Of  worldly  pro- 
ductions, some  trade  in  one  article  and  some  in  another.  The 
merchant,  the  farmer,  the  mechanic,  the  physician,  the  lawyer, 
each  has  wares  of  his  own  to  dispose  of,  but  the  barter  of  souls 
is  universal.  There  is  none  so  poor,  but  he  has  a  soul  to  sell ; 
none  so  rich  or  so  great,  that  he  may  not  hope  to  increase  his 
fortune,  his  power,  or  his  fame  by  the  barter  of  a  gem  so  pre- 
cious. There  is  no  price  so  high  that  Satan  will  not  oifer,  no 
artifice  so  mean  that  he  will  not  stoop  to  use.  The  young 
sell  it  tor  vanity,  and  less  than  vanity.  The  old  are  too  often 
already  sold,  and  hug  the  chains  of  their  dreary  servitude. 
Some  sell  the  soul  for  pleasure,  and  some  for  honor ;  some  for 
money,  and  some  for  sensual  indulgence;  some  for  stupid  in- 
activity, and  some  for  still  more  stupid  and  beastly  intoxica- 
tion. Oh,  the  world  is  one  great  market-house  where  souls 
are  trafiicked  ofiT^are  bought  and  sokL  And  it  is  a  fearful 
thing  indeed,  to  stand  amidst  these  busy  and  bustling  crowds 
as  they  hurry  to  and  fro  in  ceaseless  and  restless  activity,  with 
steps  light  and  free,  and  countenances  bright  and  gay,  and 
spirits  buoyant  and  exulting,  as  if  they  had  achieved  some 
mighty  enterprise  indee*! :  and  then  to  reflect  what  shall  the 


228  THE   WORTH   OF  THE   SOUL. 

end  of  all  these  things  be,  how  soon  the  gloom  of  death  shall 
gather  over  this  scene  of  folly,  and  the  light  of  eternity  burst 
in  and  dissipate  all  its  delusion.  Ah,  there  is  sickness  at  the 
heart  when  one  beholds  the  maniac  expectant  of  a  crown  bar- 
ter his  rich  inheritance  for  a  gilded  bauble,  and  then  in  driv- 
elling idiocy  exult  in  the  wisdom  of  his  purcliase. 

And  dream  not  that  you  can  escape  the  truth  of  these  re- 
marks, by  saying  that  you  have  never  thus  bartered  away 
your  soul.  This  would  be  attempting  to  remedy  the  folly  of 
the  past  by  madness  at  the  present,  adding  to  all  your  other 
sins  the  deep  and  damning  sin  of  hypocrisy  :  for  thou  hast  not 
lied  unto  man,  but  unto  God.  Ah,  wretched  mockery !  He 
that  formed  the  eye,  shall  he  not  see  ?  He  that  made  the  ear, 
shall  he  not  hear?  He  tliat  taught  man  knowledge,  shall  he 
not  understand  ?  And  think  you  that  he  who  sitteth  high 
exalted  over  all,  whose  eyes  like  a  flaming  fire  pass  to  and 
fro  over  the  earth,  beholding  the  evil  and  the  good — think  you, 
that  he  is  so  unobservant  of  the  secrets  of  your  heart,  as  not 
10  perceive,  that  amidst  all  those  busy  and  anxious  thoughts 
which  agitate  you  daily,  the  thought  of  your  soul  seldom  or 
never  mingles ;  or  that  amongst  all  the  interests  which  lie 
nearest  to  your  heart,  the  interests  ot  your  soul  are  never 
pondered ;  that  amidst  the  incessant  play  of  emotions  and  of 
energies  which  never  slumber,  there  is  no  one  emotion  called 
into  exercise,  no  one  energy  nerved  to  action  by  a  high  regard 
for  the  soul;  that  its  interests  are  postponed  to  every  other 
interest,  its  happiness  jeoparded  on  the  most  trivial  pretences, 
and  this  most  precious  treasure  which  God  has  committed  to 
your  care,  is  as  unheeded  as  the  merchandise  which  yesterday 
passed  from  your  possession,  and  to-day  has  no  place  in  your 
thoughts,  or  your  regard  ? 

Now  we  believe  that  this  whole  trade  is  an  unprofitable 
business,  that  the  speculation  will  inevitably  involve  you  in 
ruin.  And  we  think  that  we  can  prove  it  to  your  satisfaction, 
if  you  will  only  calmly,  soberly,  and  dispassionately  consider, 
reason,  calculate  together.  And  since  we  well  know  that  few 
men  are  ever  exactly  satisfied  with  the  result  of  an  argument 


THE   WORTH   OF   THE   SOUL.  229 

wliich  thwarts  their  wishes  or  opposes  their  habitual  conduct ; 
that  they  are  ever  prone  to  imagine  some  unfairness  in  the 
premises,  or  in  the  train  of  reasoning;  that  they  are  beguiled 
to  admit  too  much,  or  to  demand  too  little;  as  we  wish  the 
argument  of  this  evening,  if  possible,  to  be  conclusive  both  as 
to  your  opinions  and  your  practice,  we  willingly  grant  all  that 
you  can  ask,  and  will  even  endeavor  to  aid  you  in  your  efforts 
to  extol  to  the  utmost  the  oVjject  of  your  desire.  We  care  not 
how  much  you  may  include  in  your  conception  of  the  world, 
or  how  bright  are  the  colors  in  which  your  fancy  may  array  it, 
convinced  as  we  are  that  there  is  something  vaster  still,  before 
which  the  greatness  of  the  world  must  shrink  in  conscious 
insignificance  ;  that  there  is  a  brightness  before  which  its  glories 
must  fade  in  dim  eclipse,  and  a  blackness  of  darkness  beneath 
whose  gloom  all  its  imposing  splendor  shall  be  extinguished 
forever. 

What  then  is  the  mighty  acquisition  you  long  to  make,  and 
for  which  you  are  willing  to  exchange  your  soul's  salvation  ? 
You  desire,  perhaps,  that  splendid  edifice,  that  extensive  farm, 
tliat  exalted  station,  that  elegant  accomplishment.  Some 
would  be  quite  content  could  they  accumulate  a  few  thousands 
more,  and  add  to  the  weight  that  is  now  drawing  down  their 
souls  ;  some  ten  thousand ;  some  twenty  thousand  or  fifty 
thousand  dollars.  But,  alas !  my  friend,  enlarge  your  desires. 
I  would  not  give  my  soul  for  ten  times  the  amount.  Come 
then  along  with  me,  and  I  will  show  thee  what  thou  mayest 
aspire  to,  grasp,  and  call  thine  own.  Behold  that  noble  palace, 
which  proudly  towers  aloft  on  yonder  distant  hill ;  walk 
through  its  stately  halls,  glittering  with  gold  and  purple, 
where  the  astonished  visitor,  as  each  new  apartment  is 
thrown  open  to  his  gaze,  is  dazzled  by  som.e  fresh  display  ot 
royal  magnificence,  surpassing  all  that  had  preceded  it — its 
princely  libraries,  rich  in  the  choice  productions  of  ancient 
and  modern  genius,  where  calm  philosophy  sits  with  quiet  and 
thoughtful  eye,  and  towering  imagination  luxuriates  in  an 
ideal  world;  and  poetry,  with  its  thoughts  that  breathe  and 
Mords  that  burn ;   and  eloquence,  gently  distilling  like  honey 


230  THE  WORTH   OP  THE   SOUL. 

from  the  honeycomb — its  collections  of  art,  where  the  canvas 
and  the  marble  glow  with  warm  colors,  and  swell  to  the  fine 
proportions  of  real  life,  and  the  mighty  dead  live  again  to  the 
fancy  and  almost  to  the  eye.  Behold  its  hundred  menials,  its 
incessant  festivities,  its  enchanting  prospects  by  sea  and  land, 
its  territories,  extending  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  richly  adorned 
by  nature  and  art.  Wander  over  its  princely  pleasure-grounds 
wiiere  art  seems  the  minister  of  nature,  where  all  that  taste 
could  desire  is  added  to  all  that  wealth  could  purchase.  The 
productions  of  all  climates  are  collected :  whatever  is  fair  to 
the  sight,  or  pleasant  to  the  smell,  or  luscious  to  the  taste. 
This  lordly  heritage  shall  be  yours.  Its  splendid  equipage,  its 
polished  society,  its  gay  amusements,  its  ever-recurring  fes- 
tivities, where  the  voice  of  merriment  and  music  ever  peal  upon 
the  ear  and  elevate  the  sj^irit  and  the  fancy  to  a  state  of 
delicious  but  dangerous  intoxication.  All  this  shall  be  yours, 
if  for  it  you  will  only  give  your  soul.     Do  you  hesitate  ? 

Then  ascend  with  me,  and  gaze  still  farther,  where  the  vision 
is  lost  in  tlie  distance,  and  the  horizon  is  seen  resting  on  the 
blue  hills  that  skirt  it.  All  around  is  yours.  The  villages 
whose  spires  are  seen  just  peeping  from  the  trees,  the  towns 
whose  busy  streets  are  echoing  the  hum  of  a  thriving  and 
industrious  population,  the  whole  wide  country  as  it  spreads 
around  with  its  rich  pastures  and  its  browsing  herd,  its  valleys, 
its  mountains,  its  cities,  and  its  forests — all  are  yours,  if  you 
will  only  fall  down  and  worship  the  prince  of  this  world,  in 
token  of  homage  and  of  fealty.  Do  you  say  No  ?  Then  I 
offer  thee  a  kingdom ;  thou  shalt  be  one  of  the  princes  of  the 
earth,  wealth  and  power  will  I  give  thee,  and  a  proud  nation 
for  thy  subjects.  Nay,  we  will  ascend  to  the  pinnacle  of 
nature's  temple,  and  look  down  on  all  the  kingdoms  of  the 
world  and  all  their  glory.  All  this  will  I  give  thee,  only  fall 
down  and  worship.  The  whole  world  is  in  one  scale,  and  only 
thy  soul  in  the  other.  Ah,  the  world  !  it  is  a  tempting  offer ! 
The  whole  world!  It  has  too  much  to  tempt  a  feeble  mortal. 
It  has  lofty  mountains,  glorious  valleys,  majestic  oceans,  popu- 
lous cities,  splendid  palaces,  and  remains  of  ancient  art.     There 


THE   WORTH   OF  THE   SOUL.  231 

are  paintings  that  overpower  us,  music  that  bewilders,  power 
that  intoxicates,  pleasures  that  ravish.  To  the  world  belongs 
all  that  delights  the  fancy,  captivates  the  sense,  pleases  the 
taste,  fills  the  understanding,  fires  the  imagination,  misleads 
the  heart.  There  is  gold  in  its  mountains,  ])earls  and  diamonds 
in  its  oceans,  wonders  in  its  bosom.  That  gold  shall  adorn 
thy  palaces,  those  diamonds  sparkle  in  thy  diadem,  those 
wonders  be  admired  in  thy  cabinet.  All  these  shall  be  thine 
and  for  thy  use.  The  sun  shall  rise  to  illuminate  no  dominion 
on  earth  but  thine.  The  winds  of  heaven  shall  blow  to  waft 
thy  navies ;  the  rivers  flow  to  bear  thy  commerce ;  the  rains 
descend  to  fertilize  thy  soil;  and  the  millions  of  the  earth 
shall  live  to  do  thee  homage,  with  bended  knee  and  ready 
service  and  obsequious  devotion. 

There  was  once  a  man  who  seemed  almost  destined  to  realize 
this  dream  of  universal  dominion.  The  ruler  of  the  most 
learned  and  polished  nation  of  the  globe,  at  a  time  when  refine- 
ment and  learning  were  almost  universally  diffused,  his  capital 
the  centre  at  once  of  attraction  and  of  influence  for  all  the 
earth,  where  learning  and  society  reciprocally  imj^roved  each 
other ;  learning  imparting  to  society  a  portion  of  its  ow^n  calm 
dignity,  and  society  giving  to  learning  its  own  fine  polish. 
Himself  the  child  of  a  revolution  which  shook  the  world,  he 
walked  forth  over  its  surface  as  the  embodied  spirit  of  that 
revolution  from  which  he  sprang,  to  subvert  and  change  and 
modify  all  that  he  touched.  His  generals  were  princes,  his 
subjects  kings.  Feared  by  the  rulers,  and  worshipped  by  the 
populace  of  Europe,  he  had  passed  from  nation  to  nation, 
spoiling  as  he  went.  Whatever  was  most  precious  in  modern 
or  ancient  art,  he  gathered  from  the  cities  of  Italy  and 
Germany;  from  Rome  and  Florence  and  Venice,  from  Dresden 
and  Berlin,  to  adorn  the  galleries  and  halls  of  the  Tuileries 
and  the  Louvre.  How  inconceivably  dazzling  must  have  been 
the  splendor  of  such  a  court,  where  genius  and  learning  and 
power  and  magnificence  and  beauty,  all  united  to  cast  a 
witchery  and  an  enchantment  over  the  scene.  Yet  he  was 
master  of  only  a  small  portion  of  the  world.     The  pillar  he 


232  THE   WORTH  OF  THE   SOUL. 

erected  to  himself  in  Paris,  and  on  whose  lofty  summit  his 
own  statne  stands  proudly  pre-eminent,  is  made  only  of  cannon 
taken  in  the  German  wars,  and  overlooks  only  a  single  city. 
But  thou  shalt  possess  the  whole.  All  its  wealth,  its  elegance, 
its  arts,  its  power,  shall  be  thine.  Its  literature  shall  all  centre 
in  thy  capital.  Its  poetry,  its  oratory,  its  music,  shall  delight 
to  proclaim  thy  praises ;  and  looking  far  and  wide,  over  sea 
and  land,  in  the  pride  of  thy  heart,  thou  shalt  say  all  this  is 
mine. 

'Now  I  say  not  how  soon  splendor  loses  its  charm,  how  the 
diadem  often  rests  on  an  uneasy  brow,  and  the  purple  covers 
an  aching  heart,  how  satiety  turns  to  disgust,  and  flattery 
only  calls  forth  contempt,  and  how  the  native  feelings  of  a 
man  would  often  spurn  away  the  animals  that  fawn  and  cringe 
and  flatter  at  his  feet.  Nor  need  I  say  how  the  anxieties  and 
disquietudes  and  dangers  of  such  a  government  would  destroy 
the  tranquillity  of  life ;  nor  how  conscience  would  bring  its 
charges,  and  disease  its  agonies,  and  death  claim  at  last  his 
reluctant  victim.  Of  all  these  I  say  nothing.  Let  thy  life 
flow  on  in  peace  and  quiet,  calm  and  glorious  as  a  summer 
evening's  sun.  When  the  sun  goeth  down  it  will  rise  again ; 
but  when  man  goeth  to  his  long  home  there  is  no  return.  The 
sun  which  shone  upon  his  birth  has  shone  upon  his  fimeral, 
and  still  shines  upon  his  grave — but  where  is  he  ?  The  sea- 
sons revolve  and  the  year  looks  gay,  but  where  is  he  who  was 
once  the  gayest  and  merriest  of  all  ?  The  world's  machinery 
still  moves  on,  but  where  is  he,  the  skilful  and  the  mighty 
one,  who  gave  the  impulse  to  its  movements  and  guided  and 
controlled  and  regulated  all  ?  A  few  short  months  his  menials 
are  arrayed  in  black,  and  there  is  all  the  mockery  of  unreal 
woe  ;  and  again  those  halls  resound  with  the  dance,  the  music, 
and  the  jest.  But  where  is  he?  The  grave  is  his  home; 
corruption  his  brother ;  the  worm  his  companion.  The  dust 
has  returned  to  dust.  The  spirit  has  gone  to  judgment.  He 
sowed  to  the  flesli,  and  reaped  corruption.  He  sowed  to  the 
wind,  and  reaped  the  whirlwind.  He  gained  the  world,  and 
lost  his  soul. 


THE  WORTH   OF  THE   SOUL.  233 

II.  Wliat  is  it  to  lose  the  soul  ? 

1st.  It  is  to  lose  that  Avhich  gives  the  world  all  its  power 
to  charm.  It  is  to  lose  all  beauty  and  magnificence,  all  glory 
and  excellence.  It  is  to  lose  all  you  love  or  desire,  for  all 
takes  its  value  from  the  soul.  The  soul  being  lost,  all  is  lost. 
Xot  merely  is  it  a  negative,  but  a  positive  loss :  not  privation 
only,  but  actual  self-torture.  Recall  to  your  memory  any  of 
those  scenes  from  which  men  usually  receive  the  most  intense 
delight — some  glorious  landscape  where  we  gaze  in  mute 
astonishment  on  all  the  magnificence  of  nature — as  standing 
on  the  high  walls  of  some  city  of  the  Swiss,  with  its  glorious 
valleys  spreading  fsir  as  the  eye  can  reach,  and  covered  with 
the  cattle  from  a  thousand  hills,  its  lakes  glittering  in  the 
sunbeams,  its  steep  declivities  adorned  with  luxuriant  foliage, 
and  variegated  with  the  bright  hues  of  the  grape ;  its  giant 
mountains  lifting  their  heads  on  high  and  clothed  with  the 
accumulated  snows  of  ages;  so  glorious,  so  bright,  so  pure 
and  stainless,  that  they  seem  to  be  the  habitations  of  heaven, 
the  temples  of  the  sky,  the  palaces  of  angels,  the  dwelling- 
place  of  God.  Or  select  some  other  scene  where  you  may 
dwell  with  fond  remembrance  on  the  endearments  of  domes- 
tic life,  and  gaze  with  rapturous  delight  around  that  little 
circle  of  which  you  are  youi'self  the  life  and  centre,  "  where 
heart  meets  heart  reciprocally  warm,"  and  every  eye  beams 
with  kindness  and  love  on  every  other.  Or,  let  it  be  your 
joy  to  act  upon  the  stormy  theatre  of  public  business,  where 
all  is  life  and  passion  and  intense  excitement,  and  man  meets 
man  in  stern  and  bitter  rivalry,  to  struggle  together  for  the 
palm  of  power  or  of  fame. 

Now,  however  lofty,  or  however  ecstatic  may  be  those  emo- 
tions which  swell  and  heave  within  our  bosoms  when  thus 
gazing  on  the  magnificence  of  nature's  scenery,  or  the  quiet 
enjoyments  of  domestic  life,  or  the  mighty  exhibitions  of  in- 
tellectual power  on  the  great  arena,  where  the  interests  of 
nations  are  debated ;  we  ask  you  to  consider  for  a  moment, 
what  it  is  that  communicates  its  interests  to  all  that  you 
behold.     Were  the  sun  blotted  out  from  the  sky,  and  the  pall 


234  THE   T70RTH  OF  THE  SOUL. 

of  darkness  spread  over  all  earthly  things,  all  their  attractions 
would  be  gone.  All  might  exist  in  itself  as  it  existed  before ; 
but  to  you  it  would  exist  in  vain ;  for  the  light  which  made  it 
visible  to  your  eye,  which  spread  over  it  the  hues  of  beauty, 
and  gave  it  the  loveliness  or  the  sublimity  of  its  proportions, 
would  have  disappeared. 

But  the  sun  might  shine  on  in  his  glory,  and  nature  might 
smile  beneath  his  beams,  and  the  hearts  of  men  might  rejoice 
around ;  and  this  would  all  be  naught  to  you,  if  the  eye  had 
lost  its  vision,  and  the  ear  its  hearing.  What  would  be  to 
you  the  smile  of  friendship,  or  the  voice  of  aifection,  if  where- 
ever  the  sightless  eyeballs  turned  they  rolled  in  vain,  and  the 
strained  ear  could  catch  no  accent  from  the  lips  it  once 
delighted  to  listen  to  ?  That  eye  might  be  uninjured,  that  ear 
might  still  retain  unimpaired  its  delicate  and  ingenious  organi- 
zation, each  exactly  adapted  to  convey  from  the  world  without 
its  appropriate  sensations.  But  what  would  this  avail,  if 
there  were  no  living  and  feeling  spirit  within  to  receive  the 
notices  thus  conveyed  through  the  avenues  of  the  senses,  and 
to  pour  forth  on  the  dead  and  lifeless  materialism  without  a 
portion  of  its  own  vitality  and  spirit  and  warmth  ?  You 
might  walk  abroad  over  this  fair  earth,  and  your  eyes  might 
be  turned  upward  toward  this  glorious  sky,  and  by  the  power 
of  some  artificial  galvanism  might  you  be  made  to  perform 
(perhaps)  many  of  the  offices  and  to  exhibit  many  of  the 
appearances  of  a  living  and  feeling  and  intelligent  being ;  yet 
would  you  move  only  like  a  corpse  amidst  the  society  of  busy 
and  bustling  men — having  no  part  in  their  joys  or  their  sor- 
rows, their  hopes  or  their  fears.  No  rapture  could  ever  thrill 
along  your  nerves,  or  expand  your  bosom,  or  pour  its  full 
warm  tide  along  your  throbbing  arteries. 

Think  then  that  of  all  you  love  most  dearly,  and  prize  most 
highly,  the  soul  is  the  essence.  It  is  the  source  of  all  your 
enjoyments  in  the  past,  and  all  your  anticipations  for  the 
future;  and  remember,  that  to  these  the  soul  imparts  all  their 
power  to  communicate  delight.  The  soul  is  indeed  the  man, 
and  to  lose  the  soul,  is  to  lose  himself;  it  is  to  lose  his  all. 


THE  WORTH   OP  THE   SOUL.  235 

How  foolish  then  is  your  speculation.  ITow  mad  is  the  game 
you  are  playing,  who  thoughtlessly  and  lightly  are  casting 
away  your  souls,  that  you  may  gain  the  world.  It  is  as  if 
one  should  pluck  out  his  eyes,  that  he  might  increase  the 
pleasures  of  vision  ;  or  mangle  his  ears,  to  increase  the  delights 
of  melody  ;  or  amputate  his  limbs,  for  the  purpose  of  relishing 
more  keenly  the  pleasures  of  some  favorite  sport. 

But  the  soul  may  be  lost  without  being  annihilated.  There 
may  be  a  perversion  of  its  powers,  without  their  destruction. 
And  this  perversion  may  be  as  much  more  fearful  than  its 
annihilation,  as  the  infliction  of  positive  torture  is  more  terrible 
than  the  simple  privation  of  enjoyment.  To  put  out  the  eye 
would  be  to  annihilate  all  the  beauty  of  the  visible  creation. 
But  it  might  be  so  diseased,  that  every  ray  of  light  which  fell 
upon  the  inflamed  and  swollen  eyeballs  would  send  a  shudder 
of  agony  through  the  whole  system;  or  so  deranged  in  its 
organization,  that,  like  a  burning-glass,  it  would  concentrate 
all  tlie  rays  of  light  into  one  fiery  focus  uj^on  the  optic  nerve, 
scorching  and  consuming  it,  while  the  tortured  brain  was 
boiling  and  seething  and  maddening  with  the  flame.  Thus  it 
is,  that  all  the  blessings  of  God's  providence  may  be  turned 
into  curses ;  and  the  gifts  of  his  hand,  if  perverted  from  their 
proper  use,  may  be  converted  into  the  instruments  of  his  wrath, 
till  everj^  avenue  for  feeling  becomes  an  avenue  for  woe. 

And  thus  may  the  soul  itself,  that  noble  instrument  of 
thought  and  recipient  of  pleasure,  be  so  lost  in  sin,  so  wander 
from  the  great  end  of  its  creation,  that  its  immortal  faculties 
shall  be  the  ever-living  and  ever-enlarging  source  of  a  misery 
as  vast  as  its  own  amazing  powers ;  as  eternal  as  its  own  ever- 
enduring  existence.  That  imagination  which  is  now  the  mir- 
ror of  the  universe,  giving  back  the  images  of  all  that  is  great 
and  glorious  and  lovely  in  creation,  and  diffusing  the  bright- 
ness of  its  own  joyous  existence  on  all  around,  may  become 
the  abode  of  all  dark  and  hateful  thoughts,  haunted  by  the 
most  fearful  and  terrific  spectres,  cursed  with  a  creative  power, 
ever  restlessly  active,  and  prolific  oidy  in  horrors — those 
mighty  energies  turned  away  from  their  appropriate  objects, 


236  THE   WORTH   OF   THE   SOUL. 

which  alone  could  yield  them  healthful  exercise  and  nourish- 
ment, turning  madly  inward  on  themselves,  and  crushed  by 
their  own  convulsive  struggles  until  they  writhe  beneath  their 
own  self-inflicted  tortures  ;  like  that  reptile  of  the  East,  which 
in  the  madness  of  its  venom  drives  its  sting  into  its  own  body, 
and  sinks,  and  sickens,  and  blackens,  and  bursts,  and  dies, 
beneath  the  poison  which  its  own  fangs  have  supplied. 

But,  2d.  The  loss  of  the  soul  is  its  eternal  loss  in  hell. 
The  perdition  of  the  soul  in  hell  !  Ah,  what  a  fearful  thought 
is  this — which  pushes  far  away  beyond  the  limits  assigned  to 
human  knowledge  into  a  land  of  dai'kness,  of  deep  darkness, 
like  the  shadow  of  death,  and  ranges  wildly  there  amidst 
images  of  gloomy  horror.  What  is  it  ?  Ah,  no  eye  liath  seen, 
no  ear  hath  heard,  no  language  could  describe,  no  heart  con- 
ceive the  fearful  secrets  of  that  world  of  woe.  Xo  messenger 
has  returned  to  bear  the  tidings  of  what  he  witnessed  there. 
Xo  voice  has  issued  from  that  world  of  ruin,  laden  with  intoler- 
able woe  to  tell  us  of  the  agonies  which  Divine  justice  can 
inflict,  and  immortal  spirits  nerved  and  strengthened  by 
Almighty  power  are  able  to  endure.  Yet,  as  we  have  some 
beams  from  heaven,  we  have  likewise  some  faint  echoes  fi'om 
hell.  Ah !  there  are  fearful  depths  in  human  nature ;  some- 
times broken  up  and  laid  bare  to  our  view,  to  make  us  observe 
and  shudder  and  beware.  When  some  dark  spirit  rent  by 
mighty  passion,  blackened  by  secret  crimes,  haunted  by 
terrific  recollections,  in  an  hour  of  hopeless  remorse,  or  in  the 
death-bed  agony,  reveals  his  deeds  of  darkness,  despairs  of 
pardoning  mercy,  writhes  beneath  the  tortures  of  anticipated 
wrath,  wrestles  like  a  strong  man  against  the  foe  that  torments 
him,  till  the  mind,  crushed  by  its  own  convulsive  throes,  drives 
on  through  life  like  a  dismantled  wreck,  urged  furiously 
forward  by  demon  powers,  or  bursts  madly  from  its  feeble 
tenement,  exclaiming :  Lost !  lost !  lost  forever  !  Ah,  that 
wandering  eye,  that  flushed  cheek,  that  burning  forehead ; 
that  lip  curled  in  agony,  that  brow  now  knit  in  grim  defiance, 
now  quailing  in  gloomy  terror,  all  bring  us  to  an  abyss  of 
horror,  where  reason  falters,  and  the  blood  curdles  as  we  gaze. 


THE   WORTH    OF   THE    SOUL.  '237 

And  now  that  restless  eye  is  fixed,  and  the  strained  eyeballs 
glare  upon  some  object  of  his  hatred,  or  his  terror,  and  he 
points  you  to  the  damned  spirits  that  torment  him,  and  tells 
you  that  troops  of  devils  are  waiting  to  liurry  him  away,  and 
asks  if  you  cannot  see  the  hell  that  is  already  burning  in  his 
bosom.  And  he  tosses  and  writhes  beneath  the  anguish  of  its 
flames,  and  gnashes  his  teeth  in  fury,  and  curses  God,  and 
curses  all  human  kind,  and  curses  his  own  soul,  and  dies ! 
Oh  !  if  this  be  the  foretaste,  what  is  the  reality  ?  "  If  this  be 
done  in  the  green  tree,  what  will  be  done  in  the  dry  ?"  If 
this  be  earth,  what  then  is  hell  ? 

What  is  a  damned  spirit  ?  We  are  told  (but  oh,  how  faint 
is  language !)  we  are  told  of  a  worm  that  never  dieth ;  and 
we  have  seen  even  on  earth  the  commencement  of  its  gnawings, 
the  writhings  of  the  victim  under  its  first  sting.  But  there, 
oh,  there — it  shall  gnaw,  deep  into  the  heart ;  and  gnaw,  and 
gnaw,  and  gnaw  forever !  We  are  told  of  a  fire  that  is  not 
quenched.  We  liave  seen  it  kindled  here.  The  first  flashes 
of  its  lurid  flame  we  have  shuddered  to  behold.  AVe  have 
seen  the  first  agonies ;  we  have  heard  the  first  groans  of  the 
slow  consuming  victim.  But  there,  it  shall  rage  and  glow 
and  devour  forever.  The  pile  thereof  is  fire  and  much  wood; 
and  the  spirit  of  the  Lord,  like  a  stream  of  brimstone,  doth 
kindle  it  forever.  For,  saith  the  Lord,  "A  fire  is  kindled  in 
mine  anger,  and  it  shall  burn  to  the  lowest  hell,  and  it  shall 
consume  the  earth,  and  set  on  fire  the  foundations  of  the 
mountains."  Ah,  who  of  you  can  dwell  with  devouring 
flames?  Who  can  lie  down  in  everlastino:  burninors?  We 
are  told  of  a  blackness  of  darkness.  Its  gloomy  clouds  we 
saw  gathering  here.  But  they  shall  thicken  and  blacken  and 
darken  forever,  till  they  settle  down  in  one  huge  mass  upon 
the  soul ;  penetrated  by  no  beam  of  light,  gilded  by  no  ray 
of  hope — but  growling  fierce  thunder  over  the  sinner's  head, 
and  flashing  forth  lurid  lightnings.  And  remember  that  this 
shall  be  the  portion  of  him,  who  in  gaining  the  world  loses 
his  own  soul. 

Thou  mayest  gain  the   world  for  a  short  time  ;  but  the  loss 


238  THE   WORTH   OF   THE   SOUL. 

of  the  soul  is  for  eternity,  eternity !  Mysterious  and  fearful 
thought !  How  often  have  I  tried  to  penetrate  thy  depths, 
and  form  some  faint  conception  of  thy  wonders,  till  ray  mind, 
overwhelmed  by  thy  greatness,  would  sink  back  beneath  the 
hopeless  effort !  How  much  lies  hidden  in  thy  bosom  of  fear- 
ful and  tremendous  import  to  the  sons  of  men  !  Oh,  what  is 
eternity  ?  An  eternity  of  woe !  Go  ask  that  unhappy 
wretch  w^ho  has  sunk  from  a  Gospel  land  to  the  pit  of  per- 
dition, and  he  will  tell  you  there  is  no  language  of  earth, 
that  can  convey  the  thought.  Go  to  that  dark  and  haughty 
spirit,  scarred  with  the  thunders  of  Almighty  vengeance, 
confined  under  chains  of  darkness  to  the  judgment  of  the  great 
day,  and  as  he  rises  to  your  view  and  tosses  on  those  fiery 
billows,  ask  him,  what  is  an  eternity  of  woe  ?  And  he  will 
say,  there  is  no  term  in  the  vocabulary  of  hell  w^hich  can  at 
all  express  its  meaning ;  that  if  all  its  bittei-ness  were  distilled 
into  one  drop,  and  all  its  anguish  concentrated  into  one  keen 
pang,  and  all  its  groans  collected  into  one  loud  expression  of 
woe,  and  all  its  fires  kindled  up,  to  give  it  burning  energy 
and  power,  yet  it  could  never  tell  half  the  horrors  of  eternity. 
Oh,  on  whatever  the  air  of  eternity  bi-eathes,  it  assumes  a 
new  magnitude.  Its  men  become  spirits;  its  days  are  cen- 
turies; its  units  are  millions.  Its  joys  swell  into  raptures. 
Its  pains  burn  into  madness.  There  is  no  progress  there  ;  no 
change,  no  past,  no  future  :  all  is  one  eternal  now.  Here 
weeping  endures  for  a  night,  but  joy  comes  in  the  morning. 
There,  no  morning  ever  breaks  upon  a  night  that  hangs  its 
dreary  curtains  around  the  sinner's  couch  of  flame  forever. 
Here  as  we  toss  restlessly  from  side  to  side  upon  our  sleepless 
pillow,  and  long  for  the  morning  light,  and  cry  out,  Watchman, 
what  of  the  night  ?  Watchman,  what  of  the  night  ?  We 
hear  the  answer:  The  morning  cometh  and  also  the  night. 
But  there  no  friendly  voice  proclaims  the  approach  of  day; 
but  from  each  wailing  companion  in  torment  comes  the  dread 
assurance, — The  night  of  eternity  rolls  on :  slowly,  heavily, 
unchangeably,  darkly.  The  night  of  eternity  rolls  on.  TJie 
night  of  eternity  rolls  on. 


XL 

THE    LOVE   OF   THE    WORLD. 


1  John,  li.  15. — "Love  not  the  world,  neither  the  things  of  the  world*" 


There  is  in  every  human  bosom  some  great  and  absorbing 
passion,  and  there  is  some  object  on  which  that  passion  fixes. 
It  may  lie  for  a  season  almost  dormant  in  the  bosom,  unnoticed 
by  the  world,  and,  perhaps,  unknown  to  him  who  unconsciously 
indulges  it.  It  may  be  modified  by  circumstances,  and  even 
suspended  in  its  operation  for  a  time,  while  some  other  passion 
occupies  its  place.  Yet  when  these  circumstances  are  removed, 
and  the  mind  reverts  to  its  natural  state,  this  passion  re-ap- 
pears and  resumes  its  wonted  dominion.  It  is  not  the  same 
indeed  in  every  individual,  nor  in  the  same  individual  at  every 
period  of  his  life.  The  objects  which  delight  us  now,  may 
hereafter  be  exchanged  for  others,  more  interesting  in  them- 
selves, or  more  congenial  with  our  maturer  judgment.  The 
passions  that  now  agitate  and  move  us,  may  be  succeeded  by 
other  passions  called  forth  by  other  objects.  But  there  will 
always  be  a  passion  to  control  us  and  an  object  at  which  that 
passion  aims,  and  it  will  be  true  of  each  one  of  us,  at  every 
moment  of  his  future  life,  as  it  has  been  at  every  period  of  his 
past  existence,  that  there  is  some  object  on  which  his  affections 
are  supremely  fixed,  and  which  forms  the  sources  of  his  highest 
happiness. 

And  from  the  very  nature  of  things  it  must  be  so.  The  mind 
is  essentially  active,  and  it  must  have  some  object  on  which 
to  employ  its  activities.  The  affections  are  constantly  going 
forth  to  find  some  object  around  which  they  may  cling,  and  if 
it  were  possible  that  any  human  being  could  be  entirely  dis- 


240  THE   LOYE   OF   THE   ^ORLD. 

severed  from  every  present  object  of  regard,  and  find  in  the 
whole  world  beside  no  other  on  which  his  faculties  might 
fasten,  the  world  would  be  to  him  a  desolation  and  a  wilder- 
ness. Existence  would  be  a  curse,  the  soul  itself  a  dreary  and 
vacant  solitude,  and  the  keenest  anguish  that  has  ever  tortured 
the  nerves  or  sickened  the  heart  of  man  would  be  pi-eferred  be- 
fore the  dull  vacuity,  the  motionless  and  dead  stagnation  of 
such  an  existence. 

Xow  the  objects  on  which  the  men  of  this  world  have  fixed 
their  afi:ections,  are  all  worldly  objects,  and  upon  them  are 
they  most  intently  and  closely  fastened.  From  these  they  de- 
rive their  highest  happiness,  and  to  these  are  they  supremely 
devoted.  They  may  abandon  one  object,  but  it  is  only  to  pur- 
sue another.  They  may  renounce  one  passion,  it  is  only  to 
substitute  another  in  its  place,  and  in  all  the  changes  of  their 
purposes  and  characters  on  earth,  the  same  great  truth  is  evi- 
dent, that  the  world  and  the  things  of  the  world  form  their 
portion  and  their  hope.  The  man  of  ambition  may  become 
the  man  of  learning.  The  man  of  wealth  or  the  man  of  sensual 
pleasure,  may  be  wearied  with  the  bustle  and  contention  of 
public  business,  and  seek  in  the  privacy  of  domestic  life  the 
quiet  and  happiness  he  had  elsewhere  sought  in  vain.  He  may 
engage  in  the  pursuits  of  science,  or  rejoice  in  the  sublimity  and 
beauty  of  nature's  scenery,  and  in  the  stillness  of  his  calm  re- 
treat, surrounded  by  all  that  is  grand  and  ennobling,  and  far 
from  the  noise  and  tumult  of  the  world  without,  he  may  enjoy 
the  luxury  of  a  purer  and  more  tranquil  happiness,  and  look 
back  with  pity  and  astonishment  at  the  objects  that  once  en- 
grossed his  attention.  And  thus  having  renounced  one  of  the 
world's  pursuits,  he  may  imagine  that  he  has  renounced  the 
world  itself,  while  all  his  thoughts  have  centred  upon  worldly 
objects,  and  all  his  heart's  devotion  has  been  offered  up  at  the 
shrine  of  idolatry. 

Now  it  is  this  supreme  devotion  to  the  world  against  which 
we  object  and  against  which  the  apostle  has  raised  his  warn- 
ing voice  in  the  lanc:uao;e  of  our  text.  It  is  not  that  the 
eye  of  man  rests  with    delight  on   all  that   is   beautiful,  or 


THE   LOYE   OF  THE   WORLD.  241 

magnificent  in  nature.  It  is  not  that  the  heart  of  man 
swells  even  into  rapture,  in  the  sweet  intercourse  of  social 
life,  and  reposes  with  undoubting  confidence  on  the  bosom 
of  his  friend.  It  is  not  tliat  the  soul  of  man,  ever  ac- 
tively inquisitive,  loves  to  expatiate  freely  over  every  field  of 
knowledge.  Nor  is  it  even  tliat  he  indulges  the  inferior  de- 
sires of  his  nature  and  receives  with  gladness  those  gifts  of 
providence  whicli  are  kindly  oiFered.  It  is  to  none  of  these 
that  w^e  object.  But  it  is  that  while  we  enjoy  the  gifts,  we 
forget  the  Giver ;  tliat  we  love  the  creature  more  than  the  Crea- 
tor, and  that  thus  this  world,  which  God  has  clothed  with  so 
much  beauty  and  loveliness  for  our  use,  on  every  part  of 
which  he  has  poured  in  such  rich  profusion  the  bounties  of  his 
providence,  and  stamped  the  evidence  of  his  existence  and 
his  presence,  instead  of  leading  us  up  to  him  as  the  Creator 
and  Preserver  of  all,  has  only  served  to  shut  out  God  entirely 
from  our  thoughts,  and  involved  us  in  all  the  guilt  and  all  the 
folly  of  a  practical  idolatry. 

It  was  the  peculiar  genius  of  the  heathen  mythology,  that  it 
personified  every  object  of  external  nature,  and  deified  every 
passion  of  the  human  mind.  To  these  imaginary  deities,  it 
builded  temples  and  consecrated  priests.  To  tliem  the  sculptor, 
the  painter,  and  the  poet  were  used  to  devote  the  finest  speci- 
mens of  their  art ;  and  the  highest  eiforts  of  human  genius 
were  employed  to  cast  a  brilliancy  and  a  glory  over  the  basest 
of  human  passions.  Now  this  idolatry  is  more  obvious  and 
palpable ;  l)ut  is  it  more  real  than  our  own  ?  It  is  not  the 
building  of  the  temple,  nor  the  offering  of  the  sacrifice,  nor 
the  bending  of  the  knee,  nor  the  solemn  mummery  of  their 
idle  superstition,  which  gives  to  their  idolatry  its  most  hateful 
and  disgusting  character.  It  is  because  the  soul  partakes  in 
the  idolatry;  transfers  to  the  objects  of  its  worship  the  regard 
which  is  due  to  God  alone.  When  the  man  of  ambition  thus 
engages  with  restless  ardor  in  the  pursuit  of  worldly  distinc- 
tion;  when  he  sacrifices  to  tlie  accpiisition  of  this  ideal  god  his 
liealth,  his  happiness,  and  his  \irlue,  and  makes  this  the  object 
of  his  daily  thoughts  and  nightly  aspirations,  is  not  his  idola- 
*  11       ^ 


212  THE   LOVE   OF   THE   WORLD. 

try  as  glaring,  as  gross,  as  if  in  the  spirit  of  paganism  he  had 
formed  a  golden  image  of  the  Goddess  of  Fame,  had  elevated 
it  to  some  conspicuous  place  in  his  stately  mansion,  and  re- 
paired thither  morning,  evening,  and  at  mid-day  to  ofler  up  his 
sacrifices  and  his  prayers  ? 

Now  it  is  with  every  other  object  of  worldly  regard  as  it  is 
"with  the  objects  of  worldly  ambition.  Wealth,  pleasure,  ease, 
and  social  enjoyment,  all,  when  tlie  heart's  affections  are  in- 
tensely and  supremely  fixed  upon  them,  usurp  the  place  of  God 
in  the  soul,  and  cast  off  his  rightful  authority.  And  therefore 
it  is  that  we  say  unto  you,  in  the  language  of  our  text,  "Love 
not  the  world,  neither  the  things  of  the  world,"  for  the  love  of 
the  world  is  idolatry.  We  may  build  no  temple,  we  may  offer 
no  victim,  we  may  burn  no  incense,  and  yet  may  be  guilty  of 
the  most  hateful  idolatry.  We  may  be  ourselves  the  living 
temples,  and  the  victims  too,  and  our  heart's  devotion  be  the 
incense  on  the  altar.  And  thus  may  we  give  to  our  false  gods 
an  adoration,  more  decided  and  sincere  than  that  of  heathen- 
ism itself,  and  yield  to  them  that  peculiar  homage  which  is 
claimed  by  Jehovah  as  his  own  undoubted  right.  Is  it  strange 
then  that  the  Bible  should  so  often  warn  us  against  the  love 
of  the  world  ?  That  he  who  is  jealous  of  his  honor,  and  will 
not  give  his  glory  to  another,  should  solemnly  denounce  the 
friend  of  the  world  as  the  enemy  of  God  ?  And  is  it  not 
right  that  his  indignation  should  be  kindled,  and  his  WTath 
should  burn  even  to  the  deepest  hell,  when  looking  on  a  world 
like  this,  so  signalized  by  his  goodness  and  mercy,  on  whicli 
he  has  lavished  the  riches  of  his  power  and  his  wisdom,  and 
his  grace,  he  beholds  the  hearts  of  its  guilty  inhabitants  utter- 
ly alienated  from  him ;  and  that  surrounded  as  they  are  by 
Ins  blessings  and  upheld  as  they  are  by  his  power,  in  the  full 
and  vigorous  play  of  all  their  faculties,  and  luxuriating  as 
they  do  in  the  bounties  which  his  beneficence  has  supplied, 
there  is  yet  no  practical  recognition  of  his  hand  in  them; 
there  is  no  returning  tide  of  warm  emotion  toward  the  great 
fountain  of  blessings;  but  the  strong  affections  of  the  human 
heart,  and  tlie  active  energies  of  the  human  mind  are  turned 


THE   LOYE   OF   THE   WORLD.  243 

nltogetlior  from  tlie  Creator,  and  fixed  on  the  creatures  of  his 
liaiid  ? 

We  are  often  shocked  at  the  follies  and  cruelties  of  pagan- 
ism. Behold  that  crowd  of  ha^-jxard  and  emaciated  beiiiGTS  of 
every  age  and  sex,  dragging  their  wearied  limbs  along  over 
the  heated  sands,  beneath  a  burning  Eastern  sun.  Many  of 
their  comrades  have  fallen  since  they  left  their  homes,  even 
now  one  and  another  of  their  band  is  sinking  to  the  ground, 
overcome  by  hunger  and  fatigue,  and  the  jackals  and  wild 
dogs  of  the  desert  are  rushing  on  their  prey,  to  riot  in  the 
luxury  of  living  food.  There  is  one  who  measures  the  weary 
miles  of  his  long,  long  pilgrimage  by  the  length  of  his  own 
body  laid  along  the  plain,  while  all  around  him  is  whitened 
by  the  bones  of  his  predecessors,  and  the  hungry  animals 
which  have  fed  upon  their  flesh,  are  now  growling  over  their 
bones,  or  crunching  them  beneath  their  tusks ;  while  one  and 
another,  near  at  hand,  has  left  his  scanty  meal,  and  watches 
with  greedy  and  glaring  eyes,  the  moment  when  another  vic- 
tim shall  sink  to  the  earth  to  rise  no  more.  Such  is  the  crowd 
of  pilgrims  that  gather  around  the  car  of  Juggernaut.  And 
surely  it  is  a  spectacle  to  move  a  heart  of  stone. 

But  is  there  nothing  in  the  pilgrimage  of  human  life  which 
we  behold  every  day  around  us,  that  might  serve  equally  to 
arouse  our  indignation  and  our  pity?  How  many  of  our 
youth  daily  enter  on  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  wandering  far 
from  their  father's  house,  forgetting  all  a  father's  solemn 
warnings,  and  all  a  mother's  tender  and  beseeching  love. 
IIow  many  beasts  of  prey  in  human  form  beset  their  pathway. 
Are  there  no  wrecks  of  wasted  fortunes,  and  ruined  characters, 
and  health  forever  gone,  strewed  along  their  course  ?  And  when 
the  close  of  life  comes  on,  who  would  not  rather  perish  as  do 
the  worshippers  of  Juggernaut,  whose  every  limb  is  crushed 
at  once,  and  every  bone  is  ground  to  powder  by  the  ponderous 
car,  than  linger  out  a  tedious  existence,  which  poverty,  and 
disease,  and  ignominy  have  rendered  hopelessly  miserable, 
while  conscience,  with  her  scorpion  lash,  stings  the  soul  to 
madness?    And  who  would  not  rather  stand  before  the  throne 


244  THE   LOYE   OF   THE  WORLD, 

of  God  at  last,  the  poor  deluded  idolater,  who,  knowing  no 
other  God,  had  given  his  life  an  atonement  for  his  sins,  than 
as  the  worshipper  of  pleasure,  or  the  worshipper  of  fashion,  or 
the  worshipper  of  gold,  or  the  worshipper  of  fame,  who,  know- 
ing the  true  God,  had  cast  off  his  rightful  supremacy,  and 
knowing  the  only  Mediator,  had  trampled  under  foot  the  blood 
of  his  atonement  ? 

Is  there  nothing  bloody  and  revolting  in  that  idolatry  of 
honor,  and  of  office,  which  seems  to  have  seized  upon  the 
whole  of  our  country's  population  ?  Do  we  not  often  hear  the 
voice  of  stern  defiance  inviting  to  the  field  of  mortal  combat  ? 
Do  not  rational  and  immortal  beings  shed  their  heart's  blood 
at  the  dagger's  point,  and  offer  up  this  shocking  oblation  at 
the  shrine  of  popular  applause?  And  shall  such  an  idolatry 
as  this,  be  practised  unblushingly  in  our  land?  Shall  this 
abomination  of  desolation  stand  even  at  the  door  of  the  sanc- 
tuary, speaking  great  swelling  words  of  vanity,  and  shall  no 
voice  of  stern  rebuke  and  deep  denunciation  issue  from  its 
sacred  portals?  Then  is  the  spirit  of  our  office  gone,  and, 
like  the  priests  of  old,  we  have  bowed  down  before  Moloch,  and 
are  partakers  in  the  blood  shed  in  the  horrid  worship.  No, 
my  brethren,  until  tliis  abomination  is  swept  from  the  land, 
the  mild  spirit  of  Christianity  can  never  prevail.  But  it  will 
soon  be  swept  away  by  the  breath  of  an  enlightened  and  puri- 
fied public  sentiment ;  and  the  gathering  thunders  of  a  nation's 
loud  and  righteous  indignation  sliall  burst  over  the  head  of 
him  who  sheds  his  neighbor's  blood,  whether  it  be  over  so 
much  pelf  as  one  could  grasp  in  his  hand,  or  so  much  wind  as 
he  could  not  grasp  at  all. 

Having  thus  shown  that  the  love  of  the  world  is  idolatry, 
and  that  therefore  we  should  not  love  the  world,  I  proceed 
now  to  show,  that  the  love  of  the  uwiid  necessarily  pre\3ents 
the  attainment  of  the  true  (J/iristlan  cliaracter. 

Many  professing  Christians  are  perpetually  employed  in 
the  vain  effort  to  reconcile  the  service  of  God  with  the  service 
of  Satan,  au.l  the  love  of  the  world  w^th  the  love  of  God. 
They  have  been  told,  indeed,  in  God's  lioly  Word,  that  no  man 


I 


THE   LOVE   OF  THE  WORLD.  245 

can  serve  two  masters ;  no  man  can  love  God  and  mammon. 
And,  although  they  partly  believe  the  assertion,  yet  they  con- 
sider it  a  hard  saying,  because  they  cannot  understand  how  the 
love  of  the  world  is  destructive  of  the  true  Christian  character. 
Now  to  such,  it  might  save  a  world  of  useless  disappointment 
and  trouble,  could  we  only  convince  them  that  there  is  an 
absurdity  in  the  very  object  at  which  they  are  aiming,  a  glar- 
ing and  palpable  contradiction  in  the  whole  scheme  of  their 
lives.  There  is  a  constant  tendency,  my  brethren,  to  lower 
the  standard  of  Christian  character;  to  deface  that  line  of 
separation  whicli  divides  the  church  from  the  world.  But  if 
there  be  any  design  in  Christianity  whatever,  if  any  thing  was 
proposed  to  be  accomplished  by  the  revelation  of  God's  will 
to  man,  by  the  mediation  and  death  of  his  Son  ;  by  all  that 
wonderful  array  of  miracles  and  prophecies  by  which  his  mis- 
sion was  announced  at  first,  and  afterward  attested;  if  in  all 
this,  there  be  any  design  at  all  worthy  of  the  magnificent 
machinery  employed  to  eflfect  it,  this  design  is  to  produce  a 
mighty  revolution  in  the  character  of  man;  to  repair  the 
ruins  of  the  fall,  and  to  elevate  him  to  the  highest  state  of 
moral  excellence  of  which  his  nature  is  susceptible. 

The  method  by  which  this  object  is  accomplished  is  not  an 
arbitrary  method,  but  one  exactly  conformal)le  to  the  whole 
nature  of  man.  He  is  not  transported  at  once  by  Almighty 
power  into  some  new  world  of  holiness  and  peace,  where  no 
sin,  or  trial,  or  temptation, or  sorrow  could  approach  him;  but 
he  is  left  in  a  world  where  he  is  exposed  to  every  danger ;  lie 
is  left  to  fight  and  struggle  with  innumerable  foes;  his  state 
is  a  state  of  probation ;  and  if  ever  he  attains  the  character 
of  the  righteous,  or  enjoys  their  reward,  it  is  through  a  long 
process  of  the  severest  moral  discipline.  Now  this  process  is 
begun  and  completed  upon  earth.  And  the  character  it  is 
designed  to  form,  is  likewise  begun  and  completed  here.  And 
the  (character  of  the  real  Christian  as  portrayed  in  the  Bible, 
is  widely  different  from  that  exhibited  in  daily  life  around  us. 
It  is  a  holy  and  elevated  character.  His  thoughts  are  fixed 
01)  some  great  and  worthy  object,  and  he  is  pressing  forward 


246  THE  LOYE   OF  THE   WORLD. 

with  (leterinincd  resolution  to  attain  it.  He  has  embarked  in 
a  mighty  enterprise.  He  has  engaged  in  a  fearful  warfiire. 
Absorbed  in  tlie  magnitude  of  his  own  great  undertaking,  and 
confiding  in  Him  who  is  able  to  give  the  victory,  he  disregards 
alike  the  dangers  and  allurements  that  surround  him;  and 
summoning  all  his  powers  as  for  some  high  achievement,  he 
tramples  the  world  beneath  his  feet,  and  walks  amidst  all  its 
attractions  and  all  its  noisy  vanities  as  a  stranger  and  pilgrim 
upon  the  earth,  as  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible.  The  example 
of  his  Saviour  is  that  whicli  he  endeavors  to  imitate  ;  the  same 
universal  and  disinterested  love  to  man ;  tlie  same  humble  and 
holy  obedience  to  God ;  the  same  active  self-devotion  to  the 
work  he  has  to  do.  These  are  the 'dispositions  he  is  required 
to  cultivate.  He  is  to  be  daily  transformed  into  the  likeness 
of  his  Saviour  upon  earth,  and  to  be  completely  like  Him  in 
heaven  Avhen  he  shall  see  Him  as  he  is.  As  a  soldier  of  the 
cross  he  is  to  wage  a  perpetual  warfare  against  every  wrong 
appetite  and  passion.  As  a  combatant  for  more  than  an 
Olympic  crown,  ho  is  to  strain  every  nerve  in  the  contest,  and 
by  long  and  painful  self-denial,  is  to  prepare  for  the  victory. 
Tlie  arena  on  which  he  contends  is  elevated.  The  interest 
which  attends  him  is  intense.  The  spectators  are  invisible 
and  holy  spirits.  And  God  himself  is  to  give  the  crown  of 
glory. 

Such  is  tlie  character  of  the  true  Christian  as  given  in  the 
Bible,  and  such  is  the  discipline  through  which  he  must  pass 
before  he  can  obtain  the  object  of  his  wishes.  And  does  not 
such  a  representation  commend  itself  at  once  to  the  conscience 
and  the  reason  of  every  reflecting  man?  Is  it  possible  that  he 
could  consider  for  a  moment  those  large  endowments  and  high 
capabilities  with  which  he  has  been  gifted — possessing  a  mind 
that  wanders  through  eternity  and  thinks  and  feels  unutterable 
things,  in  dignity  and  intelligence  a  little  lower  than  the 
angels,  and  made  at  first  in  the  image  of  God  himself — with- 
out feeling  that  some  higher  destiny  lies  within  his  reach,  and 
some  higher  duties  devolve  upon  him  even  here,  than  to  live  a 
slave  of  a^jpetite  and  passion,  and  waste  ou  inferior  objects 


THE   LOTE   OF  THE    WOULD.  247 

llie  whole  eiierp:ies  of  .111  iminortal  spirit  ?  Now  if  such  be 
the  character  required  in  the  Gospel,  how  can  it  be  formed 
and  preserved  witliout  constant  communion  with  high  and  holy 
objects?  We  all  know  that  our  minds  receive  their  color- 
ing from  the  objects  with  which  they  are  conversant,  and  are 
moulded  to  the  form  and  likeness  of  whatever  they  embrace. 
They  will  expand  to  the  largest,  and  contract  to  the  smallest 
dimensions.  Hence  the  man  whose  habitual  associates  are 
vicious  and  corrupt,  who  accustoms  his  mind  to  be  familiar 
with  objects,  or  even  thoughts  which  are  impure  or  debasing, 
becomes  utterly  degraded  and  polluted  by  such  associations. 
While  he  who  opens  his  mind  to  larger  views  and  better  in- 
fluences, who  loves  the  society  of  holy  men  and  dwells  with 
solemn  pleasure  on  the  wonderful  truths  of  revelation,  feels 
his  own  spirit  refreshed,  expanded,  exalted  by  such  a  contem- 
plation ;  and  daily,  as  he  becomes  more  familiar  Avith  objects 
and  society  such  as  these,  will  he  exhibit  more  prominently 
in  his  walk  and  conversation  that  heavenly  elevation  of 
character  which  thej'-  naturally  impart. 

Hence  we  are  said  to  be  sanctified  by  the  truth,  because  the 
contemplation  of  the  objects  revealed  in  God's  Word  of  trutli 
naturally  purifies  the  mind.  While  we  gaze  upon  the  Saviour's 
cliaracter,  though  we  see  him  now  through  a  glass  darkly, 
yet,  beholding  his  glory,  we  are  transformed  into  the  same 
image  from  glory  to  glory,  even  as  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord. 
And  when  we  reach  his  presence  on  high,  "  we  shall  be  like 
him,  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is."  The  glories  of  his  cliarac- 
ter shall  attract  our  constant  gaze,  and  wrapt  in  perpetual  ad- 
miration, we  shall  be  assimilated  rapidly  to  what  we  admire. 
And  in  proportion  as  we  hold  communion  with  him  on  earth 
shall  we  transfer  to  ourselves  the  lineaments  of  his  character. 
It  is  not  a  mere  occasional  contemplation  of  religious  truth 
wdiicli  will  give  to  the  mind  a  religious  character.  Nor  is  it  a 
mere  occasional  withdrawal  of  tlie  thoughts  from  worldly  ob- 
jects which  can  break  oif  from  the  soul  the  shackles  of  its 
bondage.  Whatever  is  the  object  of  our  highest  regard,  and 
our  most  frequent  thoughts,  decides  our  character,  stam])S  its 


248  THE   LOVE   OF   THE   WORLD. 

imago  find  superscription  on  tlie  soul,  and  us  for  its  own.  A 
tliousand  other  objects  may  attract  our  attention,  a  thousand 
other  feelings  nifiy  pass  over  the  mind,  but  they  leave  no 
deep,  abiding  impression  there. 

If  the  world,  therefore,  be  the  object  of  our  highest  regarr. 
no  transient  religious  feelings,  however  sincere  and  exalted, 
can  at  all  influence  our  real  character.  A  thousand  raptures, 
ecstasies,  and  joys  and  lamentations  and  thanksgivings  and 
confessions  may  pass  through  our  minds  and  fall  from  our  lips, 
and  the  charge  of  worldliness  may  be  against  our  character, 
and  the  curse  of  worldliness  cling  to  all  our  doings,  and  even 
those  feeble  eflbrts  which  we  sometimes  make  to  think  and 
feel  on  heavenly  subjects,  and  on  which  we  found  our  hopes  of 
lieavenly  felicity,  instead  of  turning  back  the  current  of  our 
Avorldly  feelings,  may  serve  only  to  show  the  violence  of  the 
torrent  that  overwhelms  us,  and  the  feebleness  of  our  own 
vain  and  ineffectual  resistance. 

Ail  the  blessings  which  this  world  can  bestow  are  transient. 
"The  Avorld  passeth  away,  and  tlie  lust  thereof,"  says  the 
apostle;  "but  he  that  doeth  the  will  of  God,  abideth  forever." 
It  is  tl)is  that  stamps  vanity  on  all  earthly  blessings.  How- 
ever certain  we  may  be  of  obtaining  them,  however  much  we 
may  rejoice  in  their  acquisition,  yet  w^e  know  that  their  dura- 
tion is  short,  and  that  the  time  hasteneth  on  when  we  shall 
take  no  pleasure  in  them.  Let  the  young  man  rejoice  in  his 
youth.  Let  the  strong  man  glory  in  his  strength.  Let  the 
man  of  genius,  and  the  man  of  learning,  and  the  man  of  power, 
and  the  man  of  wealth,  each  plume  himself  on  his  superiority 
above  his  fellows ;  and  as  the  eyes  of  all  around  are  fixed  upon 
him,  and  the  gratulations  of  an  admiring  crowd  meet  him  at 
every  step,  let  him  drink  in  all  the  pleasure  which  can  flow 
from  such  a  source.  Let  no  drop  of  bitterness  mingle  with 
his  cup  of  enjoyment.  Let  no  rivalry  obstruct  his  career.  Let 
no  envy  depreciate  his  merit.  Let  no  malice  blacken  his  fair 
fame.  Let  him  stand  forth,  by  the  united  suffrage  of  man- 
kind, on  the  proud  eminence  of  an  undoubted  superiority. 
Has  he  beheld  with  grief  the  splendid  edifice  of  some  wealthier 


THE  LOVE   OP  THE   WORLD.  249 

citizen,  rising  and  towering  far  above  his  humbler  dwelling? 
let  there  arise  as  by  magic  from  the  earth  one  loftier  still, 
around  which  shall  bloom  and  twine  the  loveliest  flowers  of 
every  land,  while  the  dews  of  heaven  shall  fall  more  plentifully, 
and  the  breath  of  the  morning  shall  fan  it  more  softly,  and 
tlie  evening  zephyrs  shall  murmur  more  gently  around  it.  Has 
he  listened  till  he  wept  to  the  subduing  strains  of  an  elo- 
quence he  could  not  hope  to  rival  ?  let  there  come  down  upon 
him  the  power  of  an  inspiration  which  shall  raise  his  fancy  to 
a  nobler  flight,  and  expand  his  mind  to  a  larger  comprehen- 
sion, and  attune  his  voice  to  a  more  bewitching  melody,  and 
let  eloquence  distil  from  his  lips  like  honey  from  the  honey- 
comb. And  to  the  honors  which  he  meets  abroad,  let  us  add 
all  the  enjoyments  of  domestic  life.  Let  his  home  be  the 
habitation  of  love,  and  around  his  hospitable  board  let  there 
ever  be  gathered  a  select  band  of  enlightened  and  social 
friends ;  while  he  who  stood  the  foremost  in  every  public  en- 
terprise, and  gathered  the  admiration  of  public  crowds  around 
him,  is  too  the  centre  of  every  private  circle,  and  gains  a  still 
higher  testimony  to  his  private  virtues  and  social  worth. 

But  wliat  will  all  this  profit  if  it  will  not  last?  Those 
social  circles  shall  be  broken  up.  The  youth  and  beauty 
which  once  crowded  those  festive  halls  shall  go  down  to  dark 
forgetfulness.  Even  he  who  was  the  life  and  centre  of  those 
gay  assemblies  shall  join  the  nations  of  the  dead.  That 
tongue  of  eloquence  shall  be  mute  in  death.  That  eye  of  fire 
shall  be  quenched  in  darkness.  That  lofty  palace  shall  crum- 
ble to  the  earth,  and  the  very  name  of  its  possessor  shall  perish 
among  men.  Then  is  there  nothinsj  left  to  man  but  "  to  lie 
down  in  cold  obstruction  and  to  rot  ?"  Yes,  while  the  dust  is 
returning  to  dust  again,  the  "  spirit  is  going  to  God  who  gave 
it."  A  new  world  shall  then  open  on  our  view.  New  scenes 
shall  burst  on  our  astonished  vision.  Our  disembodied  spirits 
shall  enter  on  new  and  untried  modes  of  existence,  and,  freed 
from  the  manacles  of  flesh,  shall  swell  into  larger  capacities 
both  of  enjoyment  and  suflering.  Nor  eye  hath  seen,  nor  ear 
hath  heard,  nor  liath  it  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  to  cou- 
11* 


250  THE  LOVE   OF  THE   WORLD. 

ceive,  the  glory  which  is  here  prepared  for  those  that  love 
God. 

It  is  to  this  world  of  glory  and  blessedness  that  I  Avonld 
point  you  to-day.  I  would  invite  }^ou  to  partake  of  its  glory 
which  never  fades,  to  abide  in  its  mansions  of  eternal  rest,  to 
seek  that  holiness  without  which  you  cannot  enjoy  it,  and  to 
bow  before  that  Sovereign  who  fills  it  with  his  presence.  And 
yet  to  many  I  know  that  my  invitation  will  be  vain.  The 
love  of  the  present  evil  world  hath  blinded  your  minds,  and 
hardened  your  hearts  against  the  Gospel.  The  lovers  of  this 
world  seem  bound  to  it  by  some  strange  spell.  The  power  of 
some  secret  fascination  seems  to  have  charmed  all  their  facul- 
ties, until  the  voice  of  reason  and  experience,  as  well  as  the 
voice  of  God,  falls  unheeded  on  their  ears.  In  spite  of  all  that 
we  have  known  ourselves,  and  lieard  from  others,  we  still  be- 
lieve that  the  world  is  a  satisfying  portion.  We  listen  to  its 
promises,  and  with  eager  expectation  grasp  its  unsubstantial 
pleasures.  There  is  none  so  stupid  as  not  to  perceive  in  his 
moments  of  serious  reflection  that  it  is  all  delusion,  but  it  is  a 
sweet  delusion,  and  he  willingly  resigns  himself  again  to  its 
soothing  influence.  There  is  none  who  has  not  been  some- 
times rudely  awakened  from  his  dream  of  worldly  happiness 
to  o-aze  upon  the  reality  of  truth.  But  lie  soon  composes  him- 
self softly  to  his  repose,  enjoys  the  same  visions,  pursues  the 
same  shadows,  clasps  the  same  phantom  forms  to  his  bosom, 
starts  from  his  slumbers,  finds  it  all  a  dream,  and  sleeps  again. 
And  this  is  the  business  of  life,  the  employment  of  those  three- 
score years  and  ten  bestowed  on  rational  and  immortal  beings, 
for  the  purpose  of  securing  everlasting  happiness.  Nothing 
could  show  more  plainly  the  extent  of  that  moral  derange- 
ment, which  has  passed  upon  every  individual  of  our  species, 
or  which  exhibits  more  aftectingly  the  nature  of  that  fearful 
bonda(i"e,  wherein  the  prince  of  this  world  has  enslaved  his 
infatuated  votaries.  Against  such  a  delusion  human  reasoning 
and  Imman  eloquence  are  employed  in  vain.  None  but  the 
Spirit  of  God  can  reach  a  case  so  desperate.  Nothing  less 
than  the  Almighty  power  can  break  the  deep  slumbers  of  the 


THE   LOVE   OP  THE   WORLD.  251 

spiritual  death.  It  is  in  humble  dependence  on  this  divine  as- 
sistance that  I  will  now  invite  your  attention,  my  dying  fellow 
sinners,  to  a  few  plain  and  serious  considerations. 

Consider  then,  in  the  first  place,  how  many  millions  of  men 
there  are  now  in  the  world  pursuing  the  same  expectations  of 
worldly  happiness,  of  wealth,  of  distinction,  health,  and  long 
life,  and  inquire  honestly  of  your  own  mind,  how  many  of  all 
these  will  ever  attain  the  object  at  which  they  aim  ;  how  many 
will  be  cut  off  in  the  midst  of  all  their  schemes,  and  called  to 
the  bar  of  God  ;  how  many  w411  linger  through  a  long  life  of 
poverty ;  how  many  will  fall  short  of  that  distinction  after 
which  they  aspire,  or  that  wealth  they  anticipate,  and  pine 
away  in  the  agony  of  disappointed  hope,  or  writhe  under  the 
gnawings  of  self-devouring  envy,  or  wither  under  the  conscious- 
ness of  neglected  worth.  Of  the  eight  hundred  millions  now 
upon  the  earth,  how  many  do  you  suppose  will  attain  even  a 
moderate  portion  of  that  worldly  happiness  they  expect  ?  And 
even  among  the  most  successfid,  who  will  attain  the  half  that 
he  anticipates  ?  What  reason  then  have  you  to  expect  a  dis- 
pensation from  the  common  lot,  and  success  in  all  your  wishes, 
while  others  fail  ?  Consider  again,  how  many  men  have  lived 
smce  the  creation  of  the  world,  in  the  six  thousand  years  that 
are  past.  We  are  lost  in  endeavoring  to  think  of  their  num- 
bers. Millions  piled  on  millions  fail  to  make  the  mighty  sum. 
But  when  we  endeavor  to  think  of  the  schemes  and  plans  and 
hopes  which  agitated  each  of  them  in  his  short  and  busy  day, 
what  a  scene  of  restless  activity  is  opened  before  us.  All  this 
activity  is  now  quiet  in  the  grave.  Generation  after  generation 
has  passed  away  from  the  earth,  and  we  are  permitted  calmly 
to  review  their  conduct,  and  learn  wisdom  if  we  will  from  such 
a  retrospection. 

What  then  is  the  lesson  that  we  learn  from  the  experience 
of  ages?  What  inscriptions  do  we  read  on  the  sepulchres  of 
dead  millions?  Is  it  recorded  of  ambition  that  it  always 
reaches  its  goal  ?  Did  genius  always  wear  the  crown  it 
merited  ?  Did  hope  never  promise  what  time  refused  to  be- 
stow?    And  when  all  that   heart  could  desire  was  attained. 


252  THE  LOVE   OF  THE   WORLD. 

has  the  soul  of  man  rejoiced  in  the  mighty  acquisition  ?  Very 
different  is  the  record  there  inscribed.  It  is  tlie  record  of 
crushed  hopes,  of  blighted  prospects,  of  joys  which  bloomed 
but  to  wither,  of  pleasures  which  long  eluded  the  giasp,  and 
when  caught  at  last,  turned  into  disappointment  and  satiety 
in  the  embrace.  Oh,  would  we  receive  instruction  from  the 
experience  of  our  fathers,  how  might  each  successive  genera- 
tion become  wiser  than  that  which  preceded  it.  But  though 
one  generation  passeth  away  and  another  cometh,  the  fallen 
nature  of  man  remaineth  the  same.  New  actors  come  upon 
the  stage,  but  the  farce  of  human  folly,  and  the  tragedy  of 
human  disappointment  are  re-enacted  in  wild  concision  over 
the  dust  of  our  sleeping  ancestors.  But  if  we  neglect  the 
experience  of  others,  why  should  we  disregard  the  lessons  of 
our  own  ?  There  is  not  one  that  hears  me  now,  who  has 
not  seen  enough  in  the  little  circle  of  his  own  acquaintance, 
and  felt  enough  in  the  secrecies  of  his  own  bosom,  to  con- 
vince him  thoroughly  that  the  world  has  no  certain  nor  sat- 
isfying portion  to  bestow.  There  is  none  who  has  not  felt 
the  shock  of  disappointment,  or  the  loathing  of  satiated  de- 
sire. Who  has  not  seen  his  brightest  expectations  overclouded, 
his  most  deeply  cherished  hopes  all  disappointed,  his  tenderest 
affections  wounded  in  their  tenderest  point.  But  when  all  has 
been  bestowed  that  the  world  could  give,  who  has  not  felt  that 
this  is  insufficient  ?  In  the  w^ildness  of  mirth,  in  the  excesses  of 
sensual  pleasure,  amidst  the  loud  applause  of  admiring  thou- 
sands, man  is  not  satisfied.  The  soul  cannot  feed  on  husks  like 
these.  Debase  and  brutalize  it  as  you  may,  it  is  a  spirit  still, 
and  despite  all  your  efforts  it  will  rise  and  reassert  its  nature 
and  its  origin.  It  is  endowed  w^th  a  capacity  for  enjoying  God, 
and  can  never  be  satisfied  with  inferior  good.  And  hence  it  is 
that  sinners  pass  so  tediously  and  painfully  through  the  world. 
There  is  a  constant  struggle  against  all  the  better  principles 
of  their  nature,  against  reason,  and  conscience,  and  the  immor- 
tal spirit  within  them. 

What  a  fearful  struggle  is  this  ;  yet  it  is  going  on  within  the 
bosom  of  every  sinner.     Yes,  sinner,  conceal  it,  deny  it  as  you 


THE   LOVE   OF  THE   WORLD.  253 

may,  the  thin  disijjuise  of  outward  merriment  hides  it  not  from 
the  eye  of  man,  how  much  less  from  the  searching  glance  of  an 
omniscient  God.  How  foolish,  then,  to  love  the  world,  whick 
after  all  gives  no  real  happiness,  while  we  reject  our  kind  and 
merciful  Creator,  who  is  able  to  satisfy  the  highest  desire  of 
the  soul  which  he  has  made,  *'  in  whose  presence  is  fuhicss 
of  joy,  and  at  whose  right  hand  are  pleasures  forevermore." 
Place  yourself  amidst  the  happiest  circle  of  the  most  promising 
youth  of  both  sexes.  They  have  never  yet  known  sorrow,  or 
experienced  disapj)ointment.  The  world  lies  fresh  and  un- 
trodden before  them,  and  as  far  as  tlie  eye  canTeach,  hope  gilds 
the  prospect  with  the  brightest  colors.  One  hopes  for  wealth, 
and  before  her  mind  forever  rolls  the  splendid  equipage,  the 
costly  apparel,  and  the  elegant  apartments  of  the  rich.  Another 
hopes  for  honor,  and  his  eye  brightens  at  the  thought  of  the 
bar,  and  senates,  and  assemblies,  and  his  own  voice  swelling 
high  above  the  rest,  and  guiding  the  tumultuous  passions  of 
the  people.  Another  dreams  of  health  and  youth  and  beauty 
and  social  comfort  long-continued,  and  thinks  this  happiness 
enough  ;  while  another,  more  quiet  still,  pictures  the  still  re- 
treat, the  comfortable  fireside,  the  cheerful  friend,  and  all  the 
accompaniments  of  domestic  peace.  Now  follow  them  if  you 
can  through  their  various  fortunes  in  their  future  life.  Will 
not  youth  decay  ?  Will  not  beauty  fade  ?  Will  not  that 
bi-ight  eye  be  dimmed  ?  Will  not  that  manly  voice  be  hushed 
in  death,  or  enfeebled  by  disease,  or  overborne  by  party  vio- 
lence ?  Or  who  can  tell  the  thousand  misfoitunes  which  meet 
them  in  the  path  of  life,  and  bring  poverty,  or  shame,  or  social 
misery  upon  them.  How  many  commenced  the  career  of  life 
along  with  Caesar,  with  the  same  bright  ho])es  and  the  same 
ambitious  views.  A  mother's  fondness  destined  for  them  the 
same  eminence,  and  a  father's  fond  pride  promised  the  same 
high  success,  and  the  kind  voice  of  many  an  applauding  friend 
cheered  them  on  their  way.  But  who  among  them  all  trod 
the  same  path  of  glory  ?  And  yet  how  dizzy  was  the  pinnacle 
on  which  he  stood  at  last,  and  how  soon  did  that  dominion  end 
in  blood,  which  years  of  toil  and  dangers  and  bold  ambiti(jn 


254  THE  LOVE   OP  THE   WORLD. 

had  just  secured.  Xay,  the  great  globe  itself  shall  be  de- 
stroyed, the  elements  shall  melt  with  fervent  heat,  and  earth's 
last  garniture  shall  be  its  winding-slieet  of  flames. 

And  is  this  nothing  but  a  scene  where  imagination  riots  and 
reason  reels?  Think  you  that  he  who  made  the  world,  cannot 
destroy  it?  Are  there  no  instruments  of  wrath  laid  up  in  the 
great  store-house  of  the  Almighty's  indignation  against  the  day 
of  final  retribution  ?  In  the  very  bowels  of  the  earth  on  wliich 
you  tread  so  securely,  are  the  hidden  elements  which,  brought 
together  and  pent  up  within  its  shell,  would  melt  its  solid 
rocks,  and  heave  its  quaking  mountains,  and  by  one  vast  ex- 
plosion shatter  it  to  fragments.  The  very  air  you  breathe,  if 
partially  decomposed,  would  yield  a  substance  which  taking 
fire  from  a  lighted  lamp,  would  spread  a  universal  conflagra- 
tion, and  which,  even  when  prepared  by  the  chemist's  skill,  and 
issuing  in  the  smallest  current  from  his  laboratory,  dissolves  all 
earths  and  minerals,  and  causes  the  hardest  steel  to  blaze  and 
sparkle  like  the  burning  brand. 

Thus  as  God  has  placed  in  every  sinner's  bosom  the  elements 
and  the  forebodings  of  future  misery,  so  has  he  placed  in  the 
material  world  around  us  the  sources  and  the  forevv^arnings  of 
its  coming  dissolution.  But,  alas  I  how  deaf  are  the  men  of 
this  world  to  the  voice  which  thus  comes  to  them  from  the 
word  and  the  works  of  God.  They  would  not  believe  though 
one  should  rise  from  the  dead  to  tell  them.  And  therefore 
shall  this  day  of  the  Lord  come  as  a  thief  in  the  night.  None 
shall  be  expecting  it.  But,  as  when  the  deluge  came,  the 
aifairs  of  this  world  shall  be  rolling  on  in  their  accustomed 
course,  and  the  current  of  this  world's  occupations,  pursuits, 
and  pleasures  shall  be  drifting  men  as  far  away  from  holiness, 
happiness,  and  heaven,  and  impiety  shall  lift  as  bold  a  front  as 
•ever.  The  Atheist  shall  be  proving  that  there  is  no  God.  The 
Deist  shall  be  asking,  Where  is  the  promise  of  his  coming  ? 
The  Socinian  shall  be  proving  that  the  Lord  of  Glory  is  no 
better  than  a  man.  The  youth  in  the  ardor  of  his  untamed 
passions  shall  be  urging  on  his  chase  of  pleasure;  and  the 
maiden  in  the  pride  and  confidence  of  charms,  alas !  too  much 


THE  LOYE   OF  THE   WORLD.  255 

admired  and  too  falsely  flattered,  shall  be  distributing  around 
tlie  tokens  of  her  favor.  The  man  of  ambition  shall  be  prt-ss- 
ing  forward  in  his  hot  career  of  glory  ;  and  the  conqueror  shall 
then  be  driving  his  car  of  triumph  over  prostrate  nations, 
while  the  wail  of  oppressed  millions  falls  unheeded  on  his  ear. 
The  thief  shall  be  stealing  through  the  twilight  to  seek  his 
neighbor's  goods,  and  the  murderer  shall  be  wiping  from  his 
brow  the  stains  of  blood,  and  the  duellist  shall  be  aiming 
his  weapon  at  a  brother's  heart  —  when  suddenly,  as  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  shall  be  heard  the  trump  of  the  archangel, 
and  the  voice  of  God.  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates,  and  be 
lifted  up,  ye  everlasting  doors,  and  the  King  of  Glory  shall 
come  in.  Who  is  this  King  of  Glory?  The  Lord  of  hosts. 
He  is  the  King  of  Glory.  And  is  this  he  who  was  born  in 
Bethlehem  ?  Who  was  clothed  in  flesh,  who  was  despised  and 
spit  upon,  who  was  crucified  and  slain  ?  Yes,  this  is  he,  O 
sinner!  who  died  that  you  might  live.  Who  shed  his  own 
l)recious  blood  on  the  cross  for  your  salvation.  And  now  he 
is  sending  you  the  oflers  of  his  mercy,  and  entreating  you  with 
condescending  kindness  to  be  reconciled  to  God.  But  then, 
oh,  how  changed.  His  wrath  is  kindled  into  fury,  and  his 
mercies  are  clean  gone  forever.  Vain,  then,  are  the  entreaties 
of  the  sinner.  No  voice  of  mercy  answers  to  his  prayer.  But 
from  the  great  white  throne  issue  forth  thunderings  and  light- 
nings, and  a  voice  which  says.  Because  I  have  called  nnd  ye 
refused,  I  stretched  out  my  hand,  and  no  man  regarded.  But 
ye  have  set  at  naught  my  counsel,  and  would  none  of  my  re- 
proof I  also  w411  laugh  at  your  calamity,  and  mock  when  your 
fear  cometh,  when  your  fear  cometh  as  a  desolation,  and  your 
destruction  as  a  whirlwind.  Then  shall  these  go  aw^ay  into 
everlasting  punishment,  but  the  righteous  into  life  eternal. 


XII. 

THE  GROUNDS  ON"  WHICH  MEJT  REJECT  THE  GOSPEL. 


Luke,  xiv.  18. — "And  they  all  with  one  consent  began  to  make  excuse." 


The  revelation  which  God  has  given  ns  was  made  in  human 
language,  and  adapted  to  human  understanding,  that  it  might 
gain  an  entrance  into  the  human  heart,  and  exert  an  influ- 
ence over  the  conduct  and  character  and  destinies  of  man. 
With  the  same  benevolent  design  our  Heavenly  Father  has 
condescended  still  more  to  the  weakness  and  imperfections  of 
our  nature,  and  has  accommodated  the  language  of  his  word 
to  the  circumstances  and  relations  of  daily  life,  and  the  feelings 
and  aflections  which  these  various  circumstances  are  calculated 
to  excite.  Thus  the  high  truths  of  religion  are  brought 
down  to  the  level  of  tlie  human  understanding,  and  urged 
home  with  more  affecting  power  even  to  the  hardest  heart, 
when  illustrated  by  the  commonest  occurrences  of  life,  and  ap- 
pealing to  all  our  tenderest  sensibilities. 

Now  this  is  the  design  of  the  parables,  so  often  employed  in 
the  Bible,  to  teach  us  something  that  is  unknown,  by  compar- 
ing it  with  something  that  is  familiarly  known  and  with  which 
we  are  every  day  conversant,  teaching  us  heavenly  things  by 
comparing  them  w^ith  earthly  things,  giving  us  some  faint  idea 
of  our  relations  and  duties  toward  our  fellow-creatures.  And 
this  design  is  most  admirably  accomplished  by  the  parables  of 
the  Bible;  so  that  the  truth  which  is  meant  to  be  conveyed, 
is  not  only  brought  home  more  affectingly  to  the  heart,  but  is 
represented  likewise  more  vividly  to  the  understanding  than 
could  possibly  be  done  by  any  mere  verbal  representation. 
How  instructive,  and  at  the  same  time  how  affecting  and  con- 


GROUNDS   OX   WITICH   MEN,  ETC.  257 

descendiiiG^,  is  the  lano^iiage  of  the  Bible,  when  God  represents 
himself  as  the  Father  of  the  human  race,  and  permits  us  to  come 
unto  and  call  him,  "  Our  Father  who  art  in  heaven  ; "  and 
who,  though  he  be  in  heaven,  yet  looks  down  with  pitying 
compassion  on  his  wandering,  erring  children,  and  desires  to 
reclaim  them  to  himself,  to  holiness,  to  heaven,  and  everlasting 
happiness ;  opening  wide  to  receive  us  the  arms  of  a  father's 
affection,  assuring  us  of  a  father's  welcome,  and  a  rich  inher- 
itance. 

It  is  impossible,  we  imagine,  that  any  man  could  read,  with 
the  slightest  attention,  the  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  without 
feeling  more  deeply,  at  the  close,  the  wisdom  and  duty  of  re- 
penting and  turning  to  God,  and  being  more  thorouglily  con- 
vinced than  he  had  been  before  that  God  is  willing  to  receive 
the  returning  prodigal.  While  he  pictures  to  his  mind  the 
misery  and  want  of  the  wayward  child,  his  obstinate  persever- 
ance, his  downward  course,  even  when  beggary  and  ruin  stared 
him  in  the  face,  his  slow  repentance,  his  reluctant  determination 
to  return,  his  hesitating,  lingering,  doubting,  trembling  ap- 
proach to  his  father's  house,  overwhelmed  with  shame,  ema- 
ciated with  hunger  and  disease,  corroded  by  remorse,  with 
scarce  a  rag  to  conceal  his  nakedness,  and  none  to  veil  his  so'-- 
row  and  disgrace;  and  then  beholds  his  father,  all  tenderness 
and  love,  forgetting  the  fall  of  his  child,  and  remembering  only 
liis  repentance  and  his  distress,  rushing  forth  at  the  first  news 
of  his  approach,  welcoming  that  tattered  beggar  to  his  house 
and  to  his  heart,  falling  upon  his  neck,  weeping,  and  kissing 
him,  and  with  all  the  fondness  of  a  father's  affection,  crying 
out,  "My  son  was  dead  but  is  alive  again,  was  lost  but  is 
found."  We  say,  that  no  individual  can  read  such  a  represen- 
tation as  this,  if  he  has  ever  known  the  gushings  of  those  warm 
affections  which  flow  from  father  to  son,  and  from  son  to 
father  back  again,  and  doubt  for  a  moment  that  these  are  the 
real  feelings  of  the  Father  of  the  universe  to  our  fallen  family, 
and  that  no  language  which  the  human  mind  has  ever  in- 
vented could  express  so  forcibly  as  the  simple  parable  the  deep 
instruction  it  was  intended  to  convey. 


258  GROUNDS   ON  WHICH  MEN 

But  of  all  those  figurative  representations  which  are  em- 
ployed ill  the  Bible  for  the  purpose  of  recommending  the  truth 
of  God  to  the  understandings  and  affections  of  men,  there  is 
none  more  frequently  used  than  that  which  describes  the  salva- 
tion of  the  Gospel,  as  a  provision  for  the  wants  and  necessities 
of  men,  as  food  for  the  hungry,  drink  for  the  thirsty,  a  great 
feast  richly  provided  and  freely  offered  to  all,  a  fountain  of 
living  waters,  a  stream  which  never  fails,  a  mighty  river 
springing  from  the  throne  of  God,  whose  gushing  waters  are 
clear  as  crystal^  and  on  its  banks  is  the  tree  of  life,  whose 
leaves  are  for  the  healing  of  the  nations.  By  such  representa- 
tions as  these,  the  abundance  of  the  provision,  the  freeness  and 
sincerity  of  the  invitation,  and  the  spontaneous  kindness  of  the 
provider,  are  forcibly  displayed. 

Thus,  in  the  parable  just  read,  we  are  told  that  a  certain  rich 
man,  who  was  fully  able  to  bear  the  expense  and  insure  the 
abundance  of  the  provision,  prepared  a  great  feast,  one  suitable 
to  his  wealth  and  station,  and  to  the  number  of  the  guests  in- 
vited, and  then  sent  his  servants  to  call  the  guests.  "  But 
they  all  with  one  consent  began  to  make  excuse."  Xow  the 
conduct  of  the  guests  who  were  invited,  is  intended,  no  doubt, 
to  represent  the  conduct  of  mankind,  who  are  invited  by  the 
great  king  of  heaven  to  the  rich  pi-ovisions  of  the  Gospel,  and 
yet  most  of  them  decline  the  gracious  invitation.  Let  us 
then  spend  a  few  moments  in  considering,  First,  The  strange 
fact  that  men  endeavor  to  excuse  themselves  from  accepting 
the  offers  of  the  Gospel.  Secondly,  Notice  some  of  their 
excuses.  Thirdly,  The  danger  of  thus  rejecting  the  offers  of 
the  Gospel. 

I.  Let  us  consider  the  strange  fact  that  men,  almost  univers- 
ally, endeavor  to  excuse  themselves  from  accepting  the  offers 
of  the  Gospel. 

To  one  who  believes,  indeed,  that  there  is  a  God,  the  most  sol- 
emn and  tremendous  of  all  questions  is,  whether  he  is  the  friend 
or  the  enemy  of  man.  Whether  he  who  sits  far  off,  in  un- 
created light  and  glory  above  the  sky,  shut  out  from  all  human 
gaze  by  the  unapproachable  brightness  which  smTOunds  him, 


REJECT  THE   GOSPEL.  259 

and  baffling  all  human  investigation  hy  the  untold  mysteries 
of  his  wonderful  existence.  Whether  the  terrible  and  unknown 
One  looks  down  upon  this  world  of  ours  with  kind  and  pitying 
affection,  or  frowns  us  away  from  his  presence  as  the  objects 
of  his  holy  indignation.  This  is  a  question  which  lias  pressed 
most  heavily  upon  the  minds  of  men,  in  all  ages  and  all  regions 
of  the  world,  and  in  every  condition  of  human  society.  It  has 
been  reiterated  again  and  again,  with  fearful  solicitude,  for 
ages  past,  and  is  still  propounded  with  undiminished  anxiety 
at  the  present  day.  It  has  agitated,  it  must,  at  some  period 
of  his  existence,  agitate  the  bosom  of  every  reflecting  man. 
The  philosopher  has  asked  it,  as  he  walked  with  grave  and 
solemn  tread  over  the  halls  of  science,  musing  much  and 
deeply.  The  savage  asks  it,  as  he  roams  over  his  native 
forests,  and  gazing  on  their  wild  magnificence,  beholds  in  the 
works  around  him  the  traces  of  the  great  and  unknown  Spirit. 
The  man  of  pleasure  asks  it,  when  in  some  hour  of  intermitted 
merriment  his  conscience  calls  up  the  memory  of  wasted  hours 
and  riotous  excess,  and  stamps  upon  all  his  pleasures,  vanity 
and  vexation  of  spirit.  Tiie  man  of  sorrow  asks  it,  as  he  re- 
counts the  story  of  his  multiplied  afflictions,  or  tossing  upon 
liis  bed  of  long  disease,  feels  in  his  withering  frame  the  heavy 
pressure  of  a  hand  more  mighty  than  his  own.  The  living 
ask  it,  when  they  behold  the  ravages  of  death  around  them ; 
and  the  dying  ask  it,  when  tlie  dust  is  returning  to  dust  again 
and  the  spirit  is  going  to  God  who  gave  it. 

The  question  is  one  to  which  the  human  understanding,  un- 
aided by  light  from  heaven,  has  never  yet  offered  any  satisfac- 
tory reply.  After  all  our  inquiries  it  must  still  remain  in- 
volved in  the  darkest  mystery,  surrounded  with  the  most 
perplexing  doubts.  We  may  look  abroad  indeed  upon  the 
mighty  works  of  God,  and  see  upon  them  all  the  impress  of  a 
power  which  is  infinite  and  irresistible;  but  whether  this 
power  is  indifferent,  or  friendly,  or  hostile  to  our  race,  is  not 
revealed  by  the  works  of  nature.  The  sun,  as  he  shines  in  his 
glory,  and  the  moon,  as  she  walks  in  her  brightness,  and  the 
thousand  stars  which  twinkle  in  the  sky,  may  tell  that  the  hand 


260  GROUNDS  ON  WHICH  MEN 

which  made  ihem  is  divine :  but  they  have  no  speech,  nor  lan- 
guage, to  reveal  the  high  designs  of  the  mysterious  Creator. 
If  we  observe  the  course  of  God's  providence  on  earth,  all  still 
seems  dark  and  inscrutable.  If  tlie  happiness  which  is  enjoyed 
by  man,  seems  to  prove  tlie  kindness  and  regard  of  our  Crea- 
tor; the  misery  which  is  spread  so  widely  over  the  face  of 
our  earth,  would  lead  us  directly  to  the  opposite  conclusion. 
If  every  balmy  breeze  which  wafts  health  and  joy  to  our 
habitations,  and  every  human  heart  which  throbs  with  high 
delight,  is  an  evidence  that  he  who  directs  the  wind  and  who 
formed  the  heat  is  merciful  and  good  ;  then  every  desolating 
whirlwind,  and  every  pestilential  vapor,  and  every  sob  of 
agony,  must  throw  a  sickening  uncertainty  over  the  whole 
of  our  conclusions.  And  then  there  is  the  consciousness  of  the 
whisperings  of  that  inward  monitor,  which  points  to  a  day  of 
coming  retribution,  the  fearful  looking  for  of  judgment  and 
fiery  indignation,  which,  like  a  strong  man  armed,  lays  hold  of 
every  human  bosom,  and,  struggle  and  wrestle  as  we  may, 
maintains  its  lodgment  there,  till  in  man's  last  sad  extremity 
its  triumph  is  completed,  and  the  departing  spirit,  even  before 
it  leaves  the  body,  feels  that  its  destiny  is  fixed. 

Thus  it  is  that  the  mysteries  of  providence,  and  the  con- 
sciousness of  guilt,  cast  a  fearful  uncertainty  around  every 
question  which  concerns  the  mutual  relations  of  God  and  man. 
We  feel  that  there  is  a  mysterious  agency  within  us  and 
around  us,  pervading  all  things,  sustaining  all  things,  in  whom 
we  live  and  move  and  have  our  being,  a  power  which  no 
wisdom  can  elude  and  no  force  resist;  and  while  we  remember 
that  he  is  infinitely  holy,  the  recollection  of  our  sins  must  rush 
into  our  minds,  and  bring  home  upon  us  with  redoubled  inter- 
est the  anxious  question,  *'  Can  God  be  reconciled  to  man  ?" 
Now  suppose  we  were  informed,  in  the  midst  of  this  perplexity 
and  doubt,  that  God  himself  had  resolved  to  answer  the  ques- 
tion, and  to  reveal  himself  in  his  true  character  to  the  children 
of  men  ;  with  what  anxious  and  breathless  interest  would  we 
await  the  expected  revelation.  Will  he  come  in  flaming  fire 
to  take  vengeance  on  his  etieraies,  clothed  in  the  robes  of  jus- 


REJECT  THE   GOSPEL.  2G1 

tice,  and  armed  with  the  thunder  of  Omnipotence;  or  will  he 
a2)pear  iu  the  gentleness  of  heavenly  compassion^  as  the  friend, 
and  father,  and  Saviom*  of  oar  race?  Fearful  indeed  w^ould  be 
that  hour  of  dread  suspense,  and  scarcely  less  terrific  than  that 
day  of  rii:hleous  revelation,  when  the  assembled  families  of 
men  shall  stand  before  the  throne  of  tlie  Eternal,  and  hear  the 
last  unchangeable  decision. 

But  should  the  messenger  that  comes  from  heaven,  proclaim 
his  cliaracter  as  the  Lord  God,  merciful  and  gracious,  who  de- 
lighteth  not  in  t])e  death  of  a  sinner,  but  would  rather  that  he 
should  turn  and  live — should  the  message  be  one  of  unut- 
terable love,  and  the  messenger  that  bore  it,  his  own  beloved 
Son ;  how  soon  would  we  expect  to  find  that  the  anxieties  and 
fearfulness  of  men  were  converted  into  wondering,  and  adoring, 
and  rejoicing  affection,  and  to  hear,  from  every  family  on  earth, 
and  from  every  human  bosom,  the  glad  songs  of  thanksgiving 
and  praise  to  him  who  ruleth  in  heaven,  and  yet  so  kindly 
condescendeth  to  have  intercourse  with  men.  Now  just  such  a 
revelation  given  to  mankind  in  those  V£ry  circumstances  of 
doubt  and  terror,  which  we  have  feebly  endeavored  to  de- 
scribe, is  that  which  is  made  in  the  Gospel.  In  this,  God  has 
still  more  abundantly  manifested  his  love  toward  ns,  because 
he  was  not  only  willing  to  be  reconciled  to  man,  but  to  pay 
the  price  of  reconciliation  too  ;  that  while  we  were  yet  ene- 
mies against  him,  he  freely  delivered  up  his  own  Son,  on  our 
behalf,  to  die,  that  we  might  live;  and  now  the  proclamation 
of  pardon  through  his  blood  is  made  to  every  son  and  daughter 
of  Adam ;  and  we  this  day  beseech  you,  in  Christ's  stead,  to 
be  reconciled  to  God. 

Yet  how  vainly  is  the  Gospel  proclamation  made,  how 
lightly  is  the  Gospel  mcj^sage  heard,  how  often  must  the  min- 
ister of  the  Gospel  take  up  the  lamentation  of  the  prophet  arid 
cry  out  in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul,  *' Who  hath  believed  our 
report  ?"  "  For  they  all  began  with  one  consent  to  make 
excuse." 

We  go  to  the  young  man  in  the  commencement  of  life,  who 
is    just  entering    on   his  career    of  giddy  pleasures  and   gay 


262  GROUNDS  ON   ^HICH  MEN 

amusements  :  and  we  tell  liim  that  liis  pleasures  will  at  last 
bite  like  a  serpent,  and  sting  like  an  adder ;  that  they  will 
pierce  him  through  with  many  sorrows ;  that  they  are  at  best 
transient,  uncertain,  unsatisfying.  We  point  him  to  those 
higher  and  better  pleasures  which  endure  forever,  and  till  the 
largest  capacities  of  the  soul,  in  the  presence  of  God,  where 
there  is  fulness  of  joy,  and  at  his  right  hand,  w^here  there  are 
pleasures  forevermore.  The  thoughtless  youth  passes  heed- 
lessly alonof,  and  scarcely  pauses  a  moment  to  exclaim,  "  I 
pray  thee  have  me  excused."  He  embarks  on  his  voyage  of 
pleasure;  the  stream  wafts  him  smoothly  along,  till  at  last  he 
disappears  from  our  view;  and  the  rainbow  colors,  which  had 
caught  his  fancy  and  allured  him  to  destruction,  still  overhang, 
in  silent  beauty,  the  dreadful  cataract  where  his  bark  was 
crushed.  He  is  gone,  and  we  turn  with  sad  solicitude  to  the 
man  of  middle  age,  w'ho  had  w^atched  with  us  the  wild  career 
of  the  unhappy  youth,  and  shuddered  at  the  horrid  spectacle 
of  his  untimely  end.  He  is  deeply  immersed  in  worldly  cares, 
in  the  pursuit  of  honor,  or  of  wealth.  He  acknowledges  the 
folly  of  his  early  pleasures,  and  mourns  the  disappointment  of 
his  early  hopes;  but  still  he  makes  gold  his  confidence  and 
fine  gold  his  trust ;  or  living  on  the  breath  of  popular  applause, 
and  making  it  the  god  of  his  political  idolatry,  he  takes  the 
world  for  his  portion,  and  gives  to  the  god  of  money,  or  the 
god  of  fame,  the  tribute  of  his  heart's  devoutest  adoration. 
But  in  vain  do  we  oflVr  to  him  the  riches  which  shall  never 
perish,  the  glory  and  hoiioi-  which  shall  never  fade.  Even 
heaven's  crowns,  which  shall  brighten  forevei-  on  seraphic 
brows,  are  unnoticed  and  despised  in  the  ardor  of  his  hot  pur- 
suit after  earthly  things  ;  and  impatient  of  the  slightest  delay 
or  interruption,  he  replies  to  the  most  attectionate  expostula- 
tion, "  Really,  sir,  you  must  have  nie  excused." 

We  go  to  the  old  man,  just  trembling  on  the  brink  of  the 
grave,  and  while  we  sympathize  with  all  the  sorrows  of  his 
age,  and  mourn  over  the  spectacle  of  one  about  to  desert  his 
all  on  earth,  wuth  no  portion  laid  up  in  heaven ;  we  point  him 
back  to  the  vanities  of  his  life,  and  bid  him  look  forward  to 


REJECT  THE  GOSPEL.  2G3 

that  life  above  which  shall  never  terminate,  to  a  youtli  of  im- 
mortal vigor,  and  undecaying  glory,  where  sickness  and  sor- 
row shall  flee  away,  and  all  tears  shall  be  wiped  from  all  eyes. 
But  while  we  press  upon  his  thoughts,  the  necessity  of  imme- 
diate preparaticm  for  a  change  so  near  at  hand,  and  a  state  of 
such  unspeakable  felicity,  he  hears  with  impatience  our  affec- 
tionate entreaties,  turns  back  his  wishful  eyes  upon  the  world 
which  has  so  long  deceived  him,  and,  with  the  last  trembling 
accents  of  decaying  nature,  exclaims,  "  I  pray  thee  have  me 
excused."  We  turn  away  in  melancholy  disappointment,  but 
scarce  have  turned  away,  when  another  messenger  arrives,  of 
stiTner  aspect  and  more  severe  commands.  Death  brooks  no 
delay  ;  and  the  last  faint  excuse  dies  away,  before  it  can  be 
uttered  by  his  trembling  lips. 

Now  thus  it  is,  that  the  Gospel  is  carried  around  to  all  the 
families  and  all  the  individuals  of  our  land.  It  passes  from  house 
to  house,  and  from  heart  to  heart,  knocking  at  every  door,  and 
seeking  an  entrance,  but  meeting  continually  the  same  chilling 
and  repulsive  answer,  "  Go  thy  way  for  the  present,  I  pray  thee 
have  me  excused."  How  wonderful  is  the  forbearance  and 
long-suffering  of  God,  in  thus  enduring  the  contradiction  of 
sinners  against  himself,  and  mercifully  repeating  those  gracious 
invitations  which  have  been  so  long  despised  and  so  haugh- 
tily rejected  ;  and  how  strangely  foolish  is  the  conduct  of 
men!  From  what  do  they  wish  to  excuse  themselves?  From 
sin  ?  from  misery  ?  from  hell?  No,  they  freely  indulge  in  sin  ; 
their  paths  are  encompassed  with  misery,  their  steps  take  hold 
on  hell,  and  lead  down  to  perdition.  They  seek  to  avoid  the 
favor  and  service  of  God,  the  approbation  of  a  peaceful  con- 
science, the  society  of  the  blessed  in  heaven,  present  happiness 
and  future  glory. 

II.  Let  us,  however,  examine  for  a  moment  some  of  these 
grave  and  weighty  reasons  by  which  men  endeavor  to  quiet 
their  own  conscience,  and  ward  off  the  expostulations  of  others, 
when  urged  to  give  an  immediate  attention  to  the  Gospel 
offers. 

The  first  and  most  usual  is  the  pressure  of  worldly  business, 


264  GROUNDS   ON  WHICH   MEN 

the  attractions  of  vrorldly  pleisu]*e,  the  pursuit  of  worldly- 
honor,  or  tlie  obligations  of  worldly  connections.  These  ex- 
cuses may  seem  to  be  different  in  character  and  to  come  from 
different  men ;  but  they  are  all  the  same  in  principle,  and  are 
founded  on  the  settled  deterunnation  to  enjoy  the  world  in 
some  one  of  its  various  forms,  and  not  to  permit  the  concerns 
of  rehgiou  to  interfere  at  all  with  their  worldly  plans.  Whether 
they  aim  at  the  nccumulation  of  wealth,  or  the  acquisition  of 
honor,  or  the  indulgence  of  e:ise  or  social  feelings,  the  principle 
is  the  same. 

The  train  of  thought  which  the  sinner  indulges  upon  tins 
subject,  seems  to  be  simply  this;  I  live,  says  he,  in  a  world 
which  God  has  made,  which  he  has  richly  supplied  with  every 
thing  necessary  to  sustain  my  lif  %  or  minister  to  my  enjoy- 
ment. On  every  thing  around  me  are  the  traces  of  his  power, 
the  monunit'Dts  of  his  goodness,  the  evidence  of  his  presence. 
I  am  myself,  indeed,  but  the  creature  of  his  hands.  This  hu- 
man frame,  so  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made,  is  the  product 
of  liis  power.  The  eye  which  opens  with  delight  upon  all  na- 
ture, and  by  its  delicate  and  skilful  mechanism  holds  myste- 
rious intercourse  with  distant  worlds;  the  ear  which  delights 
with  harmony,  and  listens  to  the  language  of  friendship  and 
affection;  the  soul  which  feels,  and  thinks,  and  rejoices  in  the 
kindness  of  social  affections  and  the  tenderness  of  social  rela- 
tions— these  are  all  the  workmanship  of  his  skilful  hand. 
Surrounded,  as  I  am,  with  so  many  blessings,  and  endowed 
with  such  capacities  for  enjoying  them,  I  am  determined  what 
I  will  do  ;  I  will  improve,  to  the  utmost,  my  short  opportunity  ; 
I  will  indulge  the  body,  and  forget  the  soul ;  I  will  live  like 
an  atheist  who  denies  a  God,  or  like  a  brute  that  never  knew 
one.  Drink  deeply  of  the  streams  of  his  beauty,  but  never 
look  upward  to  the  fountain  from  which  they  flow\  Bury  my- 
self amidst  the  mute  and  lifeless  materialism  around  me,  while 
I  forget  the  great  and  CA^erlasting  spirit  who  gave  to  this  ma- 
terial creation  all  the  beauty  and  all  the  attractions  it  possesses. 
Kiot  on  the  gifts  of  his  providence,  while  T  forget  the  giver  : 
and  use  the  goodness  and   lo!)g-suffering  of  Go  I  to  embolden 


REJECT  THE  GOSPEL.  265 

nie  in  sin.  I  will  liarden  my  heart  by  the  very  means  which 
were  designed  to  soften  it ;  and  that  the  benefits  of  my  de- 
termination may  not  be  confined  to  myself,  the  wife  whom  I 
have  taken  to  my  bosom,  the  children  of  our  mutual  love,  the 
friends  of  my  early  years,  shall  enjoy  the  benefit  of  my  ex- 
ample, and  reap  along  with  me  the  fruits  of  my  approaching 
harvest.  And  what  shall  that  harvest  be  ?  Let  me  answer  in 
the  language  of  God's  Word,  "  He  that  soweth  to  the  flesh, 
shall  reap  corruption  ;  he  that  soweth  the  wind,  shall  reap  tiie 
whirlwind."  He  that  endeavors  to  excuse  himself  from  his 
duties  on  any  of  these  grounds,  does  deliberately  choose  the 
wo]\d  for  his  portion  and  reject  the  salvation  of  his  soul. 

But  wiiai  will  the  world,  profit  him  if  he  shall  lose  his  soul? 
Suppose  that  he  succeeds  in  all  his  enterprises,  even  his  most 
ardent  and  extravagant  calculations.  Let  wealth  flow  in 
upon  him  by  a  thousand  channels.  Let  honor  place  him  upon 
her  highest  pinnacle ;  and  in  the  full  exercise  of  all  his  powers, 
with  nerves  that  tremble  not  at  his  lofty  elevation,  and  a  mind 
that  comprehends,  in  his  rapid  glance,  the  vast  variety  of  in- 
terests committed  to  his  care,  let  him  look  down  from  the 
station  where  he  sits  alone,  upon  a  world  all  prostrate  at  his 
feet;  and  when  man  has  exhausted  his  stock  of  paltry  adula- 
tion, let  nature  yield  her  stores  to  his  command;  let  the  moun- 
tain reveal  its  treasure,  find  the  sea  give  up  her  hidden  wealth ; 
let  the  north  send  in  her  portion  and  the  south  her  tribute  ; 
let  the  birds  of  the  air  and  the  beast  of  the  field  minister,  with 
their  choicest  dainties,  to  his  palate ;  let  the  most  delicious 
viands  sparkle  at  his  board,  and  the  softest  melody  warble 
through  his  halls,  and  the  voice  of  merriment  and  music  be 
heard  continually  around  his  apartments  ;  and  that  this  spoiled 
child  of  fortune  may  enjoy  more  than  man  has  ever  yet  en- 
joyed, or  heart  has  ever  yet  conceived,  let  his  capacities 
for  self-indulgence  be  doubled,  and  his  life  prolonged  to 
centuries — yet  will  the  day  of  his  probation  cease.  Its 
morning  rose  in  beauty;  its  noonday  dazzled  us  with  its 
brightness;  its  night  shall  close  in  clouds  and  darkness.  For 
all  these  things,  O  man!   God  shall  call  thee  into  judgment; 

12 


266  GROUNDS  ON  WHICH   MEN 

and  what  art  thou  profited  who  hast  gained  the  world  but 
lost  thy  soul  ? 

Few  men  have  the  hardihood  deliberately  to  cast  off  all 
hope  of  future  repentance  and  salvation  ;  and  although  there 
may  be  some  in  this  house  who  have  little  regard  for  the 
Saviour  of  sinners,  yet  there  is  not  one  but  would  shudder  at 
the  thought  of  renouncing  all  hopes  of  an  interest  in  his  atone- 
ment. The  boldest  sinner,  if  called  upon  to  deed  away  all  title 
to  eternal  life,  would  shrink  back  from  the  proposition.  If  the 
world  were  offered  for  his  soul,  he  would  spurn  the  offer;  and 
yet  the  very  deed,  that  he  would  shudder  at  when  })roposed 
in  words,  he  is  daily  performing,  and  repeating  continually  in 
the  course  of  his  short  and  uncertain  life.  How  many  are  say- 
ing, I  will  put  off  religion  to  a  future  season ;  I  pray  thee 
have  me  excused  just  now  ?  Now  to  put  off  religion  is,  in  fact, 
to  reject  it ;  for  all  the  offers  of  the  Gospel  are  made  at  the 
present  time.  There  is  not,  in  the  whole  Bible,  a  single  promise 
to  a  future  repentance  or  conversion.  '*  ISTow  is  the  accepted 
time,  now  is  the  day  of  salvation."  "  To-day,  if  ye  will  hear 
his  voice,  harden  not  your  hearts."  "  Boast  not  thyself  of  to- 
morrow," "This  night  thy  soul  may  be  required  of  thee." 

Since,  then,  there  is  no  promise,  no  offer,  except  to  the  present, 
he  who  puts  off  now,  rejects  altogether,  and  all  his  promises 
and  hopes  of  future  repentance  and  conversion  are  vain  de- 
lusions by  which  he  hopes  to  deceive  others,  as  the  great  ad- 
versary has  deceived  his  own  soul.  Religion  is  every  thing,  or 
it  is  nothing.  The  salvation  of  the  soul  is  important  above  all 
things,  or  of  no  importance;  and  he  who  delays  attention  to 
these  great  concerns,  proves  by  this  very  act,  that  he  hasjno 
adequate  conception  whatever  of  their  awful  and  tremendous 
import.  For  what  does  he  plead,  who  asks  a  short  delay  in 
accepting  the  offered  mercy  ?  He  asks  permission  to  sin  against 
God  a  little  longer ;  to  harden  his  heart  a  little  more ;  to 
strengthen  his  evil  habits  still  more  firmly ;  to  risk  his  soul's 
damnation  a  few  days  longer  ;  and  by  pursuing  such  a  course 
as  this,  he  hopes  to  be  prepared,  in  a  short  time,  to  turn  unto 
God,  and  repent  of  his  sins.     Has  this  man  even  the  first  idea 


REJECT   THE   GOSPEL.  207 

about  his  own  condition,  or  the  character  of  God  ;  about 
heaven  or  hell  ? 

This  whole  scheme  of  future  repentance  is  indeed  highly  in- 
sulting to  God,  ruinous  to  the  souls  of  men.  It  is  insulting  to 
God,  because  he  offers  salvation  now,  and  we  propose  to  ac- 
cept it  at  a  future  time ;  thus  saying,  that  the  offers  of  God 
are  to  stand  waiting  at  our  doors,  until  it  may  please  our  whim 
or  caprice  to  grant  them  admission.  It  is  dangerous,  because 
the  insulted  Majesty  of  Heaven  will  not  endure  the  insult. 
"My  spirit  shall  not  always  strive  with  man ;"  and  when  the 
Spirit  of  God  has  once  withdrawn  his  divine  influences,  there 
is  no  other  power  which  can  regenerate  the  soul ;  the  condition 
of  the  sinner  is  utterly  hopeless,  and  it  were  better  for  hini 
that  a  millstone  had  been  hanged  around  his  neck,  and  he  had 
been  cast  into  the  bottomless  sea.  The  experience  of  all  men 
warns  us  of  its  danger.  The  path  to  perdition  is  strewn  with 
the  bones  of  those  who  have  calculated  on  a  future  repentance ; 
and  of  all  those  unhappy  beings,  who  are  now  suffering  the 
righteous  displeasure  of  God,  there  is  perhaps  not  a  single  one 
who  has  not  often  resolved  on  a  future  repentance.  No  man 
ever  yet  reached  heaven,  who  did  not  determine  to  repent 
now.  Now  is  the  best  time  to  repent.  Are  you  young  ?  Re- 
pent now,  before  youthful  folly  has  hardened  into  aged  wicked- 
ness ;  before  th^  cares  and  troubles  of  the  world  have  pre-oc- 
cupied  your  mind,  and  evil  habits  are  fistened  upon  you.  Are 
you  old  ?  Kepent  soon,  or  you  will  never  repent  at  all ;  age 
is  the  time  for  serious  reflections ;  think  on  the  world  that  lies 
before  you,  and  is  so  near  at  hand.  Are  you  in  prosperity  ? 
Seek  the  Lord  now  :  it  will  prepare  you  to  meet  adversity, 
when  it  comes,  and  what  is  harder  still,  to  enjoy  the  world 
without  abusing  it.  Are  you  in  adversity  ?  Then  seek  your 
Father's  face,  he  will  not  cast  you  off,  "  he  giveth  liberally, 
and  upbraideth  not."  If  you  have  no  portion  on  earth,  lay  up 
one  in  heaven. 

But  I  cannot  convert  myself  you  say.  This  is  the  very 
strongest  reason,  why  you  should  not  rest  for  a  moment  in 
your  present  condition.     If  the  power  lay  with  yourself,  then 


268  GROUNDS   ON  WHICH  MEN 

you  might  exert  it  at  your  pleasure,  and  delay  would  not  be 
so  dangerous.  But  now,  all  depends  upon  the  will  of  another. 
His  goodness  alone  spares  your  life.  His  spirit  alone  can  con- 
vert your  soul.  He  is  now  waiting  to  be  gracious.  But  if 
his  patience  shall  once  be  exhausted,  if  he  shall  swear  in  his 
wrath,  that  you  shall  not  enter  into  his  rest ;  your  doom  is 
fixed,  your  condition  is  as  hopeless  as  that  of  those  who  al- 
ready feel  the  agonies  of  the  second  death.  Is  your  need  of 
divine  assistance  any  reason  why  you  should  not  seek  it?  Is 
your  need  of  the  Holy  Spirit  any  reason  why  you  should  not  ask 
his  divine  influences  ?  Is  your  peiishing  and  ruined  condition 
a  reason  why  you  should  fold  your  arms  in  calm  security,  and 
coolly  await  the  coming  ruin?  Did  the  man  whose  withered 
arm  the  Saviour  healed  act  thus,  when  he  was  commanded 
to  stretch  out  his  arm,  all  powerless  and  withered  by  disease, 
did  he  turn  to  the  Saviour  and  complain,  that  he  had  com- 
manded him  to  do  what  be  was  unable  to  accomplish  ?  No, 
he  made  the  effort,  and  God  gave  the  power.  The  very  com- 
mand to  act  includes  the  promise  of  ability  to  those  who  wish 
it.  There  is  scarce  a  command  in  the  Bible  .w^hich  has  not  a 
correspondent  promise,  and  a  correspondent  example.  Are 
we  commanded  to  seek  the  Lord  ?  God  says,  I  have  not  said  to 
the  house  of  Israel,  Seek  ye  my  face  in  vain ;  and  David  says. 
Thy  face,  Lord,  will  I  seek.  Are  we  commanded  to  make  our- 
selves new  hearts  ?  the  Psalmist  prays,  "  iMake  me  a  new"  heait, 
and  renew  a  right  spirit  within  me."  And  again  the  promise 
is,  "I  will  write  my  law  upon  their  iiearts."  If,  then,  the  in- 
vitation is  freely  given,  and  the  offer  of  divine  assistance  is 
fully^made  ;  if  the  strength,  which  the  sinner  has  not  in  himself, 
may  be  obtained  of  God,  the  excuse  which  he  draws  from  his 
inability  to  convert  himself  is  altogether  groundless. 

But  bad  as  all  these  excuses  are ;  if  persevered  in,  they 
will  all  be  taken.  God  wall  force  no  man  into  heaven  against 
his  will.  His  service  is  a  voluntary  service,  a  spiritual  service, 
and  he  seeketh  such  to  serve  him.  "  As  for  those  men  who 
were  bidden,  none  of  them  shall  taste  of  my  supper."  The 
prayers  of  sinners  are  often  answered  sooner  tlian  they  ex- 


REJECT   THE   GOSPEL.  269 

pected.  The  profane  swearer,  who  calls  down  curses  on  his 
head,  often  finds  that  his  prayer  is  terribly  answered.  He 
prays  in  jest,  but  God  never  jests ;  he  answers  him  in  earnest. 
Thus  the  man,  who  is  continually  praying  in  his  heart  to  be 
excused  from  the  service  and  favor  of  God,  often  meets  a  quick 
and  terrible  reply.  God  says  in  his  wrath,  he  is  joined  to  his 
idols,  let  him  be  excused,  excused  now,  excused  forever.  We 
see  then, 

III.  How  dangerous  it  is  to  trifle  with  the  offers  of  the 
Gospel.  If  God.  has  spoken  to  man,  he  surely  must  require 
that  man  should  give,  at  least,  an  attentive  and  respectful 
hearing.  The  voice  which  speaks  from  heaven,  is  the  voice  of 
wisdom,  the  voice  of  authority,  the  voice  of  affection.  That 
wisdom  must  not  be  despised;  that  authority  must  not  be 
disregarded ;  that  affection  must  not  be  slighted.  The  mes- 
senger w^ho  comes  from  heaven,  comes  loaded  with  a  message 
of  stupendous  importance.  He  reveals  a  wonderful  plan  of 
redemption  for  a  guilty  world.  So  vast  and  important,  in  the 
view  of  infinite  wisdom,  was  the  scheme  devised  for  man's 
salvation,  that  when  it  was  to  be  revealed,  the  Son  of  God 
himself  came  down,  attended  by  hosts  of  rejoicing  angels,  who 
announced  his  first  arrival ;  and  when  this  scheme  was  to  be 
carried  into  its  complete  and  final  execution,  this  glorious 
Redeemer  shed  his  blood  upon  the  cross,  the  earth  shook  and 
trembled,  the  sun  wrapped  himself  in  sackcloth,  and  angels 
again  announced  his  joyful  resurrection. 

Now,  for  man  to  turn  away,  in  cold  indifference,  from  this 
great  scheme  of  reconciliation  devised  for  his  peculiar  benefit 
— a  plan  which  angels  desire  to  look  into,  and  the  Son  of  God 
died  to  accomplish — for  man  thus  to  treat,  with  cool  contempt, 
the  most  solemn  doings  of  the  Almighty,  cannot  but  excite  the 
divine  displeasure.  Hence  throughout  the  Bible  it  is  repre- 
sented as  the  last  and  greatest  of  all  sins,  as  that  which  does 
arouse  the  indignation  of  Jehovah,  till  it  burneth  to  the  deepest 
hell.  Even  Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  those  cities  of  the  plain, 
whose  pollutions  cried  to  heaven  for  vengence,  and  brought 
down  a  fiery  deluge  to  overwhelm  them,  should  rise  in  judg- 


270  GROUNDS   ON  WHICH  MEN,  ETC. 

ment  against  the  cities  which  despised  the  Saviour's  invitations ; 
and  liow,  says  the  apostle,  how  shall  we  escape  if  we  neglect 
so  great  salvation ! 

And  here  in  the  parable  before  ns,  we  are  told,  that  the 
Master  was  angry — he  who  had  provided  the  feast — who  had 
sent  out  his  invitations — who  had  said,  all  things  are  ready — 
he  was  angry,  and  said,  "None  of  these  men  who  were  bidden 
shall  taste  of  my  supper."  So  when  the  approach  of  the 
judgment  is  described  in  the  Apocalypse,  those  who  are  cry- 
ing to  the  rocks  and  hills  to  fall  upon  them  and  cover  them, 
wish  to  be  concealed  from  the  w^rath  of  the  Lamb ;  for  the 
great  day  of  his  wrath  is  come  and  who  shall  be  able  to  stand ! 
Mark  the  expression,  the  wrath  of  the  Lamb — not  the  wrath 
of  the  lion,  or  the  tiger,  or  some  fierce  beast  of  pray,  whose 
delight  is  in  blood  and  suffering,  but  the  wrath  of  the 
Lamb — the  meek,  quiet,  gentle,  long-sufiering  Lamb — the 
Lamb  of  God,  slain  from  the  foundation  of  the  w^orld.  The 
sinner's  best  friend  is  become  his  enemy,  his  last  hope  is  sunk 
in  despair.  The  love  which  long  bore  with  him,  is  now  turned 
into  anger  ;  and  mercy,  long  despised,  has  seized  the  sword  of 
justice.  The  mountain  of  privileges,  on  which  the  sinner 
stood,  is  now  a  mountain  of  guilt  pressing  him  lower  and  lower 
into  perdition.  Oh,  there  is  no  hatred  like  that  which  springs 
from  slighted  love ;  there  is  no  w^rath  like  the  wrath  of 
the  Lamb  !  And  let  us  all  remember  that  the  day  is  coming 
when  these  excuses  will  be  of  no  avail.  They  shall  all, 
one  day,  be  examined  by  the  clear  light  of  eternity,  and  un- 
dergo the  searching  scrutiny  of  the  omniscient  Judge.  De- 
ceive others  as  we  may,  impose  on  ourselves  as  we  can,  yet 
we  cannot  impose  on  God.  In  that  great  day  of  coming 
retribution,  when  the  assembled  families  of  earth  shall  stand 
before  his  bar,  no  such  excuse  will  then  be  offered  ;  but  deep 
and  solemn  silence  will  overspread  tliat  wide  assembly,  and  the 
sinner,  self-condemned,  shall  only  hear  in  the  decision  of  the 
Judge,  the  confirmation  of  the  verdict  his  OAvn  conscience  had 
passed  already. 


XIII. 

THE  DUTY,   E>TCOURAGEMEXT,   AND  RESPONSIBILITY 
ARISING  FROM  THE  POSSESSION   OF  TALENTS. 


Luke,  xix.  13. — "  Occupy  till  I  come."     (See  Matt.  xxv.  14;  Luke,  viii.,  18; 
Mark,  iv.  25). 


The  parable,  of  which  our  text  forms  a  part,  is  parallel  with 
that  contained  in  the  25th  chapter  of  Matthew,  commencing  at 
the  14th  verse,  usually  called  the  parable  of  the  talents.  Both 
are  designed  to  illustrate  the  same  great  truths  by  a  language 
and  an  imagery  strikingly  analogous.  In  each  the  privileges  we 
enjoy,  the  advantages  and  blessings  we  possess,  arc  represented 
as  coming  from  the  hand  of  God,  as  gifts  of  his  bounty,  or 
rather  as  loans  for  a  season,  to  be  reclaimed  at  his  pleasure ; 
as  loans  for  which  he  will  require  an  interest  on  the  day  of 
reckoning  ;  as  advantages,  which  are  attended  by  correspond- 
ing responsibilities,  and  to  whose  improvement  we  are  in- 
vited by  the  kindest  encouragements,  from  whose  neglect  we 
are  warned  by  the  most  fearful  threatenings.  In  St.  Matthew, 
the  servants  are  represented  as  trading  with  their  talents,  and 
here,  it  is  said  :  "  Occupy  till  I  come."  The  term  in  the  origi- 
nal means  to  be  occupied,  to  be  diligently,  industriously,  labo- 
riously engaged.  So  that  the  requirement  of  our  text  is 
diligently  and  conscientiously  to  impro'ce  the  talent,  or  the 
pound,  committed  to  us. 

We  endeavored  on  a  former  occasion,  from  this  text,  to 
warn  you  against  that  secret  atheism,  which  insinuates  itself 
the  more  dangerously,  because  unobserved,  into  the  whole  cur- 
rent of  our  habitual  feelings,  and  usurps  the  place  and  the 
attribute  of  the  Creator  by  claiming  an  absolute  proprietorship 


2  72         DUTY,  ENCOURAGEMENT,  AND   RESPONSIBILITY 

in  Lis  works.  We  endeavored  to  remind  you  of  that  truth, 
universally  acknowledged,  yet  too  generally  neglected,  that 
God  is  the  Lord  and  Proprietor  of  all;  that  we  are  the  work- 
manship of  liis  hands,  created  by  his  power,  and  upheld  by  his 
goodness;  that  the  fulness  of  the  earth  is  his ;  his  the  large 
])OSsessions  of  the  rich,  and  the  scanty  pittance  of  the  poor ;  and 
that,  in  the  wide  extent  of  his  magnificent  creation,  there  is 
nothing  found  too  large  for  the  limits  of  his  ownership,  too  in- 
significant for  the  obligation  of  his  claims.  We  directed  your 
minds  to  the  consideration  of  the  solemn  truth,  that  all,  which 
we  fondly  call  our  own,  is  but  a  loan  from  the  treasury  of  the 
Lord,  to  be  reclaimed  in  its  season  ;  a  loan,  on  which  an  inter- 
est will  be  demanded,  a  talent  of  which  an  improvement  will 
be  required,  and  pointed  to  that  fearful  day  of  reckoning,  when 
the  Judge  himself  shall  be  seen  in  the  air,  when  the  living 
shall  be  changed,  and  the  dead  raised;  when  the  judgment 
shall  be  set  and  the  books  opened,  and  the  whole  assembled 
universe  shall  hear  the  last  unchang<^able  decision.  In  view  of 
all  these  solemn  considerations  it  wus  impossible  that  our 
minds  should  not  occasionally  glance  at  other  important  conse- 
quences necessarily  resulting  from  them  —  at  the  duties,  the 
encouragements,  and  the  responsibilities  connected  with  the 
poss.'ssion  of  these  talcp/.s. 

What  was  then  the  object  of  a  transient  glance,  or  casual 
remark,  will  now  demand  our  deliberate  attention, — and  we 
propose  to  consider, — 

1st.  The  duty  of  improving  our  talents. 

2d.    The  encouragements  to  their  improvement. 

3d.  The  responsibilities  connected  with  the  possession  of 
these  talents. 

L  The  duty  of  improvement  may  be  shown  from  the  com- 
mand of  God  and  from  our  own  best  interests.  The  command 
of  God  carries  with  it  a  universal  obligation  founded  on  an 
undoubted  right — a  right  of  property,  full,  complete,  original, 
clear  in  itself,  supported  by  the  best  of  titles,  the  original 
creation  and  continued  preservation  of  all  things.  His  com- 
mands are  powerful  and  cannot  be  safely  resisted ;  they  are 


ARISING  FROM  THE   POSSESSION   OF  TALENTS.  273 

wise  and  good,  and  calculated  to  promote  the  highest  welfare 
and  permanent  interests  of  nil.  These  commands  are  mucli 
broader  than  is  usually  imagined.  They  embrace  man's  whole 
nature,  intellectual  and  physical,  no  less  than  moral ;  as  St. 
Paul  expresses  it,  "his  whole  spirit  and  soul  and  body."  They 
extend  to  the  minutest  circumstances  of  his  life,  to  all  his  do- 
mestic and  social  relations,  to  his  intercourse  with  men,  as  well 
as  his  duty  to  God ;  to  the  cultivation  of  the  intellect  and  the 
preservation  of  health  and  the  exercise  of  influence,  as  Avell  as 
to  purity  of  heart  and  humility  of  spirit.  We  are  commanded 
to  be  diligent  in  business,  as  well  as  fervent  in  spirit,  to  labor 
in  our  vocation  by  day  as  well  as  to  meditate  on  God's  truths 
by  uight,  diligently  to  improve  each  talent,  to  leave  no  mo- 
ment unemployed,  no  opportunity  unimproved,  no  faculty  dor- 
mant, no  energy  relaxed. 

There  is  utterly  a  delusion  here,  a  delusion  extensively  prev- 
alent, and  fatal  to  the  interests  of  the  Gospel  upon  earth, 
which  casts  down  the  standards  of  Israel's  host,  to  be  trampled 
under  fbot  of  the  Philistines,  and  causes  the  enemies  of  God 
to  laugh  in  stern  and  bitter  derision.  It  is  that  the  commands 
of  God  extend  only  to  the  heart  and  life,  and  that  if  the  heart 
be  free  from  guile,  and  life  unspotted  in  the  world,  the  intellect 
may  lie  uncultivated,  its  mighty  powers  undeveloped,  and  the 
whole  field  of  human  knowledge  left  open  to  the  enemies  of 
God,  to  master  its  richest  treasures,  to  wield  its  mighty  wea- 
pons, to  distort  its  facts,  to  pervert  its  reasoning,  to  direct  its 
most  powerful  instrument — the  press,  to  mould  the  public 
mind,  and  stamp  their  own  impress  on  this  young  and  rising 
nation.  But  be  not  deceived,  my  brethren,  we  have  to  fight 
with  principalities,  and  powers,  and  spiritual  wickedness  in 
high  places,  and  if  there  be  one  demand  more  pressing  than 
another,  if  in  this  age  of  action,  and  tumult,  and  excitement, 
and  bold  inquiry,  if  in  this  land  of  unfettered  freedom  and 
overflowing  prosperity,  there  be  one  necessity  more  urgent 
than  all  others,  it  is  the  demand  for  holy  talent,  it  is  the  neces- 
sity for  consecrated  learning,  it  is  that  men  should  rise  upon 
our  soil,  strong  in  native  intellect,  rich  in  acquired  learning, 
12* 


274         DUTY,  ENCOURAGEMENT,  AND   RESPONSIBILITY 

filled  with  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord,  to  walk  boldly  forth  over  the 
whole  field  of  human  science,  gathering  its  scattered  riches, 
digging  deep  for  its  precious  ore,  and  from  the  Babel  of  dis- 
cordant opinions,  drawing  fresh  materials  to  build  up  in  new 
glory  the  temple  of  the  Lord. 

I  mean  not  that  meagre  and  conceited  talent  which  wastes 
its  feeble  energies  in  placid  self-contemplation;  that  superficial 
learning  which,  pufted  with  the  lightness  of  its  own  materials, 
longs  ever  after  self-exhibition,  and  grasps  for  popular  ap- 
plause ;  but  that  real  genius,  always  unobtrusive,  which  aim- 
ing at  higher  and  distant  objects,  spurns  away  from  it  the 
pettiness  of  an  early  and  temporary  "fame,  which  digs  deep, 
that  its  foundation  may  be  sure,  and  in  silence  and  obscurity 
burnishes  that  armor  which  shall  one  day  glitter  in  the  noon- 
day sun,  in  the  face  of  nations,  and  turn  the  tide  of  battle.  And 
well  do  I  believe  there  is  an  exalted  and  expansive  spirit  in  the 
Gospel,  which  can  enlarge  and  elevate  the  mind  as  well  as 
purify  the  heart,  and  under  whose  pervading  influence  there 
shall  yet  spring  up  another  race  of  men — giants  in  their  days, 
clothed  in  the  whole  panoply  of  knowledge,  radiant  in  the 
light  of  truth,  whose  reason,  blinded  by  no  passion,  polluted 
by  no  vice,  calm,  transparent,  pure,  shall  be  the  mirror  of  eter- 
nal truth,  reflecting  gloriously  its  heavenly  lineaments,  as  the 
deep,  majestic  ocean  tranquilly  gives  back  the  faithful  image  of 
the  blue  sky  above  it. 

I  have  not  forgotten  the  mighty  efficacy  of  Christian  intelli- 
gence directed  by  Christian  principle,  and  urged  on  by  Christian 
feeling,  when  employed  in  any  department  of  inquiry  or  of 
effort.  I  have  not  forgotten  that  every  enterprise  for  the  benefit 
of  the  race  has  for  centuries  past  been  commenced  and  carried 
on  and  completed  by  Christians  ;  that  when  the  world  was  to  be 
freed  from  the  bondage  of  ecclesiastical  tyranny,  and  the  rights 
of  conscience,  and  private  judgment  to  be  vindicated  and  res- 
cued, it  was  the  manly  intellect  and  holy  courage  of  a  Christian 
which  achieved  the  work ;  that  when  philosophy  was  to  be  re- 
formed, and  the  very  sources  of  all  its  errors  detected  and  ex- 
posed, it  was  done  by  a  Christian  ;  and  when  the  mind  thus 


ARISING  FROM   THE  POSSESSION   OF   TALENTS.  275 

taught  to  reason  was  itself  to  be  examined,  its  structure  inves- 
tigated, its  operations  revealed,  this  work  was  accomplished 
by  a  Christian ;  and  when  the  material  universe  in  all  its  vast- 
ness,  and  with  all  its  wonders  was  to  be  revealed  to  man,  it 
was  a  Christian  who  first  comprehended  the  structure  of  the 
universe,  who  first  analyzed  light  and  calculated  its  motions,  who 
first  weighed  the  stars  and  taught  us  their  distances,  their  mag- 
nitudes, their  densities.  And  when  this  new  nation  was  to  as- 
sume its  place  among  the  people  of  the  earth,  it  was  a  Christian, 
whose  cool  courage,  and  calm  prudence,  and  deep  foresight,  and 
sterling  integrity,  and  devout  trust  in  God,  guided  us  through 
unparalleled  dangers,  commanded  universal  confidence,  and  led 
us  safely  through  to  unexampled  prosperity  and  glory.  The 
world  has  seen  but  one  Luther,  but  one  Bacon,  but  one  New- 
ton, and  but  one  Washington.  Here  then  may  we  read  in 
living  characters  what  man  can  accomplish  when  urged  on  by 
the  motives  and  sustained  by  the  enemies  of  Christian  princi- 
ples. 

As  a  small  community  we  have  long  enjoyed  the  fertility  of 
our  soil,  the  healthiness  of  our  situation,  the  peacefulness  of  our 
society,  the  faithful  and  constant  preachinsj  of  God's  word,  and 
the  repeated  outpourings  of  his  Spirit.  What  a  long  recital 
would  it  require  merely  to  enumerate  our  blessings ;  how 
many  might  with  joy  exclaim — Here  was  I  born  again  into  a 
new  life  of  peace  and  love  ;  how  many  might  gaze  around  with 
swelling  hearts,  and  streaming  eyes,  to  behold  the  children  of 
their  love  here  brought  into  the  family  of  Christ !  Oh,  how 
delightful  is  the  recollection  of  those  days,  when  the  Lord  was 
indeed  amongst  us,  when  sinners  were  saying,  "  Come,  let  us 
go  up  to  the  house  of  the  Lord,"  and  the  loud  song  of  praise 
swelled  rapturously  high  from  hearts  overflowing  with  grati- 
tude and  love !  All  this  we  feel,  and  yet  are  we  prone  to  put 
away  from  us  the  conviction  that  we  have  individually  a  talent 
for  which  we  are  ])ersonally  responsible.  We  are  so  consti- 
tuted, that  only  what  is  remarkable  attracts  our  attention. 
Hence  an  extraordinary  providence  excites  our  gratitude  ;  an 
extraordinary  delivery  from  imminent  danger,  an  unexpected 


2V6         DUTY,  ENCOURAGP]MENT,  AND   RESPONSIBILITY 

recoYery  from  wasting  diseaso,  escape  from  some  disaster 
which  has  overwhelmed  many  of  our  neighbors,  directs  our 
eyes  to  a  hand  unseen  above  us,  which  is  stretched  out  for  our 
defence,  while  the  ten  thousand  daily  blessings  which  flow  in 
a  perpetual  stream  from  the  same  beneficent  hand  are  un- 
heeded, or  perhaps  denied. 

For  the  same  reason  we  are  all  ready  to  acknowledge  that 
the  man  of  vast  erudition,  or  brilliant  genius,  or  extensive  in- 
fluence, or  mighty  power,  has  indeed  a  great  talent  committed 
to  his  hands  ;  and  to  enlarge  most  fluently  on  the  correspond- 
ing duty  of  a  diligent  and  conscientious  improvement,  while 
we  overlook  altogether  the  talents  possessed  by  the  great  mass 
of  mankind,  and  especially  those  intrusted  to  ourselves.  How 
ready  are  we  to  exclaim :  "  Oh,  what  good  I  would  do  with 
all  that  wealth,  or  genius,  or  influence,  or  learning,  or  power ! 
I  would  suppress  crime ;  I  would  instruct  the  poor  and  igno- 
rant, comfort  the  sick  and  afliicted,  relieve  the  needy,  warn  the 
careless,  rebuke  the  bold  blasphemer,  employ  the  whole  w^eight 
of  my  authority,  wealth,  character,  all  my  talents  foi-  the  best 
purposes,  and  having  much  in  my  power,  my  efibrts  should  be 
proportionally  great ;  but  now  I  have  no  talent,  or  if  any,  it  is 
very  small,  too  small  to  accomplish  much  good,  or  demand 
much  cultivation.  I  may  live  without  concern,  however  dread- 
ful the  responsibilities  of  others.  I  am  excused,  however  strict 
their  accountability."  Now  I  am  not  disposed  to  deny  that 
there  is  a  difference  in  the  talents  committed  to  men.  Yet  this 
difference  is  not  so  great  as  many  have  indolently  and  sinfully 
desired  to  believe.  The  diflference  is  usually  of  our  own  mak- 
ing, lies  more  in  the  improvement,  than  in  the  original  gift. 
Those  ten  talents  were,  perhaps,  originally  one,  and  industry 
and  care  have  multiplied  it.  Again,  if  you  have  little,  this,  fur 
from  being  any  argument  for  indolence  or  despondency,  shows 
the  greater  necessity  for  active  and  energetic  exertion.  Your 
one  pound  may  by  diligence  be  increased  to  ten,  by  idleness 
may  be  reduced  to  nothing.  But  all  have  talents,  far  more 
numerous  than  they  suppose.  Consider  for  a  moment  how 
many  you  possess,  and  how  shamefully  they  are  neglected. 


ARISING   FROM  THE  POSSESSION   OF  TALENTS.  277 

"With  respect  to  mental  endowments,  none  wbo  have  been  at 
all  observant,  cm  for  a  moment  doubt  tbat  tlie  difference  is 
usually  less  in  the  original  structure  of  the  mind  than  in  the 
subsequent  cultivation ;  just  as  the  health  and  vigor  of  the  body, 
the  full  development  and  active  play  of  all  its  organs,  usually 
depend  upon  fresh  air  and  wholesome  food  and  exercise. 
You  are  perhaps  inferior  now  to  him  who  was  once  at  best 
your  equal,  or  on  whom  you  once  looked  down  with  the  proud 
feeling  of  conscious  superiority.  How  do  you  now  excuse 
your  present  inferiority.  He  stands  perhaps  at  the  head  of  his 
profession,  while  you  linger  far  in  the  rear  ;  his  mind  is  stored 
with  all  valuable  and  useful  knowledge,  while  yours  is  a  simple 
vacuum,  or  filled  with  that  idle  and  frivolous  reading  which 
only  causeth  to  err.  In  all  the  elements  of  intelligent  respecti- 
bility  you  are  surpassed  by  your  old  inferior.  You  are  aston- 
ished, you  are  fretted ;  now  you  swell  with  vanity,  and  now  are 
corroded  with  envy ;  now  you  laugh,  and  now  you  murmur,  but 
your  feeble  voice  is  lost  in  the  loudness  of  those  acclamations 
which  proclaim  him  your  superior.  You  wonder,  you  repine, 
but  never  reflect  on  the  real  cause,  never  revert  to  your  own 
culpable  neglect.  Your  hours  of  pleasure  were  for  him  hours 
of  study;  the  lamp  which  burned  till  midnight  in  his  apart- 
ment, illumined  no  scene  of  revelry  or  idle  mirth,  but  fell  upon 
the  page  of  wisdom.  If  his  health  be  enfeebled,  it  is  not 
through  sensual  indulgence  ;  if  his  brow  be  furrowed,  it  is  with 
anxious  thought  and  not  with  violent  passions. 

Oh,  ye  young  men,  who  now  exult  in  the  possession  of  fan- 
cied talents  which  you  think  it  unnecessary  to  improve,  how 
keen  will  be  those  pangs  of  wounded  pride,  those  stings  of  ill- 
concealed  envy,  which  will  fasten  in  your  bosoms  when  you 
find  in  future  life  that  while  you  slept,  others  labored ;  while 
you  lingered  on  the  way,  others  were  advancing  on  the  course, 
and  have  plucked  the  crown  which  you  thought  your  own. 
And  remember  that  you  are  accountable,  both  in  the  eyes  of 
God  and  man,  not  only  for  what  you  are,  but  for  what  you 
might  have  been  ;  not  merely  for  the  one  pound  given  to  you, 
but  for  the  five  or  ten  wiiich  you  ought  to  have  gained.     Say 


278        DUTY,  ENCOURAGEMENT,  AND   RESPONSIBILITY 

not  then  :  If  I  possessed  the  acquirements  or  the  genius  of 
such  an  individual  I  would  devote  them  to  high  and  noble  pur- 
poses. Those  acquirements  are  due  to  industry,  not  genius. 
That  genius  itself,  is  only  common  intelligence  happily  de- 
veloped. Sir  Isaac  Xewton  was  thought  a  dunce  at  school, 
and  after  his  wonderful  discoveries  in  after  hfe  gave  this  as  the 
secret  of  his  amazing  genius,  that  he  had  "  the  capacity  of 
X>atient  thought^  Oh,  it  is  fearful  to  look  over  the  institutions 
in  our  jand  for  the  education  of  youth,  and  observe  how  many 
talents  are  buried,  shamefully  buried,  lost  to  the  possessor, 
lost  to  the  world,  lost  now  and  forever ! 

It  is  the  melancholy  result  of  almost  universal  observation, 
that  the  fairest  promise  is  often  earliest  bUghted,  the  brightest 
genius  most  suddenly  eclipsed.  With  respect  to  wealth,  have 
you  not  more  than  to  satisfy  your  reasonable  wants  ?  Is  there 
nothing  that  you  can  spai'e  for  the  cause  of  God  and  man  ? 
Because  you  cannot  give  so  abundantly  as  the  rich,  will  you 
feel  yourself  excused  from  the  duty  of  giving  at  all  ?  Have 
you  thus  learned  the  nature  of  real  benevolence;  have  thus 
read  the  story  of  the  widow's  mite  ?  How  small  a  sum  may 
aid  in  circulating  the  Word  of  God  through  distant  lands, 
where  his  salvation  is  not  known.  How  slight  a  pittance  may 
relieve  the  distresses  of  the  needy,  if  attended  with  the  mild 
countenance  and  gentle  tone  of  Christian  love.  And  how  vast 
is  the  amount  which  may  be  accumulated  from  the  small  con- 
tributions of  those  who  have  little  to  bestow.  You  have  often 
heard  it  remarked  that  the  mighty  stream  of  British  benevo- 
lence is  principally  supplied  by  the  little  rills  whicli  flow  in 
from  the  cottages  of  the  poor.  If,  however,  you  have  nothing 
to  bestow  on  others,  is  it  not  because  you  lavish  your  income 
in  indulgence,  or  waste  it  by  carelessness  ?  Might  not  greater 
industry,  or  greater  economy,  increase  your  store,  and  a  little 
self-denial  puichase  the  dignified  enjoyment  of  daily  good? 
But  oh,  my  friends,  when  I  cast  my  eyes  over  this  congregation ; 
when  I  look  abroad  upon  this  rich  and  fertile  land  ;  when  I 
remember  how  God  has  within  a  few  years  doubled  almost 
without  your  agency  the  value  of  your  estates,  and  then  ask 


ARISING  FROM  THE  POSSESSION   OF  TALENTS.  279 

what  is  the  improvement  of  these  blessings?  where  are  the 
thank-offerings  made  unto  the  Lord  ?  wliere  is  the  recognition 
of  his  goodness  ?  has  your  gratitude  increased  with  the  multipli- 
cation of  his  favors  ?  Have  you  more  anxiously  and  prayer- 
fully improved  the  privileges  he  is  bestowing,  or  have  the 
blessings  w^hich  have  descended  from  heaven  only  pressed  you 
by  their  very  magnitude  more  closely  to  the  earth  ?  Are  you 
making  gold  and  fine  gold  your  trust,  your  confidence,  and  cast 
God  from  your  thoughts  because  he  has  never  ceased  to  think 
in  tenderness  and  kindness  of  you  ? 

When  questions  such  as  these  are  presented  to  your 
thoughts,  do  they  come  as  unwelcome  visitors,  unwillingly  en- 
tertained and  speedily  dismissed  ?  Again,  have  you  no  influ- 
ence to  exert  beneficially?  Is  there  no  circle  where  it  may  be 
happily  employed?  I  mean  not  that  meddling,  dictatorial  prag- 
matical influence,  which  irritates  and  disgusts,  w^hile  it  aims  to 
guide,  and  makes  man  hate  a  good  cause,  for  the  faults  of  an 
injudicious  advocate, — but  the  mighty  influence  of  a  meek  and 
quiet  spirit.  Great  is  the  power  of  one  pious  example ;  mighty 
the  efficacy  of  the  life  truly  devoted  to  the  Lord  !  It  matters 
not  how  ignorant,  how  young,  how  low— a  child,  a  servant, 
may  exert  an  influence  which  shall  be  felt  to  the  end  of  the 
world,  and  throughout  eternity.  It  is  the  influence  of  truth 
shining  through  his  conduct  and  character.  If  the  vessel  be 
earthy,  so  much  the  more  glorious  the  divine  treasure  w^hich 
it  contains.  Ah,  how  many  opportunities  for  exerting  a  holy 
and  happy  influence  have  we  already  lost!  How  many  here  have 
employed  all  tlieir  capacity  and  all  their  influence  to  diffuse 
around  tliem  an  atmosphere  of  corruption  ?  How  many  young 
men  pollute  all  w-ithin  tlieir  reach  by  their  own  impure  conver- 
sation and  wicked  example,  and  stand  amidst  their  fellows, 
not  to  difluse  a  holy  and  hap})y  influence  around,  but  to  blast 
and  to  wither  all  that  is  beauiit'ul  and  lovely  in  youthful  char- 
acter, themselves  meanwhile  more  blasted  and  withered  than 
the  worst,  as  the  scorpion  often  dies  l)y  the  venom  which  he 
has  nourished  for  otht'rs  ! 

Thus  might  I  proceed  to  enumerate  the  various  objects  which 


280        DUTY,  ENCOURAGEMENT,  AND   RESPONSIBILITY 

you  prize  most  highly,  and  show  that,  whether  enjoyed  in  a 
greater  or  less  degree,  they  are  all  talents.  Your  time,  your 
health,  your  energies  of  body  and  mind,  your  moral  and  social 
powers,  your  very  life,  your  all,  your  opportunities  of  improve- 
ment, your  means  of  happiness,  all  these  are  talents,  committed 
to  your  hands  for  valuable  purposes,  and  for  whose  improve- 
ment you  are  strictly  responsible. 

This  leads  us  to  remark  again  on  the  luty  of  improvement, 
that  all  these  talents  are  not  our  own ;  they  come  from  God, 
not  as  gifts,  but  as  loans,  to  be  reclaimed  at  his  pleasure.  All 
sin  is  practical  atheism,  all  neglect  or  misimprovement  of  our 
talents  is  founded  on  the  vain  assumption  that  all  we  have  is 
our  own.  Hence,  usually  the  greater  the  gift  the  more  neg- 
lected is  the  giver ;  the  stronger  and  more  numerous  the 
bonds  which  should  attach  us  to  our  Creator,  the  more  rest- 
lessly do  we  endure  their  pressure,  the  more  violently  are  they 
burst  asunder.  Tiie  very  means  designed  to  soften  our  hearts 
only  make  them  harder,  and  the  goodness  and  long-suffering  of 
God  emboldens  us  in  sin.  One  looks  on  his  farm,  richly  laden 
with  the  products  of  a  fertile  soil  and  genial  climate,  and  says : 
"  Behold,  this  is  mine,"  forgetting  that  it  is  God  alone  who 
sends  the  rain  and  sunsliine  on  his  growing  corn,  and  that  one 
breath  of  the  Lord  would  sweep  from  his  large  domain  every 
living  thing  in  which  is  the  breath  of  life.  Another  looks  with 
self-complacent  vanity  on  his  large  acquirements,  his  learning, 
his  talents,  his  fame,  and  cries  aloud  as  the  infatuated  monarch 
of  old  :  "  Behold  this  great  Babylon  which  I  have  built,"  for- 
getting who  it  is  that  causeth  him  to  differ,  that  keeps  up  the 
full  play  of  those  active  powers,  and  whose  single  word  could 
dismiss  him  from  the  high  rank  which  he  occupies  in  the  intel- 
ligent and  rational  creation,  beneath  the  level  of  the  brutes 
that  graze  unthinking,  yet  happy,  by  his  side. 

Now  all  this  is  downright  atheism,  the  most  daring  and  pre- 
sumptuous atheism.  It  is  shutting  out  God  altogether  from 
his  dominions.  It  is  casting  him  down  from  the  throne  of  his 
rightful  supremacy.  The  spirit  which  it  breathes  in  whatever 
shape  it  may  appear,  however  gracefully  decked,  or  ingeniously 


ARISING  FROM  THE   POSSESSION   OF  TALENTS.  281 

veiled,  is  still  the  spirit  of  atheism.  Oh,  my  friends,  have  we 
forgotten  that  all  things  are  his;  that  every  good  and  perfect 
gift  cometh  down  from  the  father  of  lights;  that  of  him  and 
through  him,  and  to  him  are  all  things,  who  is  over  all  blessed 
forever?  Do  we  not  see  him  in  the  dispensations  of  his  provi- 
dence? do  we  not  hear  him  in  the  voice  of  his  works?  Can  we 
breathe  the  pure  air  of  heaven ;  can  we  gaze  with  heartfelt  bliss 
around  o  ur  domestic  circle ;  can  we  exult  in  the  possession  of 
our  rational  and  intelligent  existence  ;  can  we  dwell  amidst  tlie 
manifestation  of  his  goodness  and  his  glory,  and  heedless  of 
all  we  see  around  and  feel  within  us,  say  with  the  fool  in  our 
hearts  :  There  is  no  God? 

But  if  there  be  a  God,  then  we  are  his ;  then  all  is  his,  all 
things  human  are  stamped  with  holiness,  and  consecrated  to 
high  and  holy  purposes.  In  one  sense  they  are  ours,  not  as 
gifts,  but  as  loans ;  loans  on  which  an  interest  is  required,  of 
which  an  improvement  is  to  be  made.  And  why,  I  ask  you, 
oh,  why  are  these  talents  intrusted  to  you  ?  that  station,  that 
genius,  that  wealth,  that  influence,  that  time,  those  opportuni- 
ties for  intellectual  and  moral  cultivation ;  that  they  may  be 
wasted,  perverted,  applied  to  the  worst  purposes,  or  not  em- 
ployed at  all  ?  Why  is  life  prolonged,  that  it  may  be  wasted 
in  indolence,  or  polluted  by  evil  passions,  or  brutal  lusts? 
Why  is  health  preserved,  that  all  its  vigor  may  be  conse- 
crated to  tbe  service  of  the  world  and  Satan  ?  Why  are  the 
oilers  of  mercy  made,  and  the  means  of  grace  continued,  that 
you  may  aggravate  your  final  condemnation ;  that  you  may 
heap  up  wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath  ;  that  you  may  fill  up 
to  fulness  your  cup  of  bitterness,  and  then  drink  it  to  the 
dregs?  Why  do  you  possess  those  rational  and  immortal 
powers,  capable  of  knowing  and  serving  and  rejoicing  in  God  ? 
Is  it  that  they  maybe  dragged  down  from  the  loftiness  of  their 
upward  flight  and  fastened  to  the  dust  on  which  we  tread  ? 
Is  it  that  he,  who  might  eat  of  angels'  food,  mny  grovel  with 
the  swine  and  feed  upon  their  husks  ?  Believe  you,  that  this 
is  the  design  of  your  Creator,  that  those  high  en<lowments  and 
glorious  privileges  are  given  in  mockery  of  man?     If  they 


282        DUTY,  ENCOURAGEMENT,    AND  RESPONSIBILITY 

were  given  in  perpetuity,  it  were  madness  thus  to  prostitute 
them.  But  they  were  only  loaned  for  a  season.  You  are  not 
proprietor,  as  you  may  dream,  but  tenant  at  the  will  of  an- 
other. They  may  be  reclaimed  at  his  pleasure,  you  know  not 
how  soon,  but  they  will  certainly  be  reclaimed.  That  health, 
which  you  now  abuse  to  criminal  indulgence,  and  utter  for- 
getfulness  of  God,  may  soon  be  undermined ;  that  wealth 
which  you  hoard  with  greedy  avarice,  and  to  which  as  unto  a 
God,  you  pay  your  daily  adoration,  to  which  you  sacrifice 
your  conscience  and  sell  your  soul,  that  wealth  may  soon  take 
wings  and  fly  away.  That  reason,  so  much  vaunted  and  so 
grievously  abused,  so  long  employed  to  apologize  for  sin,  and 
to  cavil  against  truth,  may  soon  tremble  on  her  throne,  totter 
and  fall.  All  your  privileges,  all  your  endowments  may  be 
swept  away,  and  you  may  yet  stand,  even  in  this  world,  the 
melancholy  monument  of  God's  righteous  judgments,  bereft 
of  all  you  have  vaunted  most,  and  most  abused,  the  wreck  of 
what  you  were,  like  the  once  proud  oak,  now  leafless,  branch - 
less,  lifeless,  which  the  fire  of  heaven  hath  scathed  amidst  all 
its  pride  and  beauty. 

But  if  this  come  not  soon,  it  must  come  at  last.  The  end  of 
our  stewardship  is  fixed  by  the  words  of  our  text,  "  Occupy, 
till  I  come."  Till  I  come  in  the  judgments  of  my  providence 
to  strij^  you  of  all  you  now  possess  ;  till  I  come  in  the  hour  of 
death  to  burst  the  bonds  that  unite  you  to  the  earth ;  till  I 
come  in  the  great  day  of  final  retribution,  to  take  vengeance 
on  my  enemies.  And  will  he  come,  the  despised,  persecuted, 
crucified  Redeemer,  will  he  come?  Yes,  he  will  come,  and 
every  eye  shall  see  him,  and  every  ear  shall  hear  him,  and 
every  knee  shall  bow  before  him,  and  every  heart  shall  quail 
in  his  presence,  and  they  that  pierced  him  shall  look  upon  him, 
and  all  the  tribes  of  the  earth  shall  wail  because  of  him  !  Will 
he  come  ?  And  oh,  how  will  he  come  ?  He  appeared  once  as 
the  Babe  of  Bethlehem,  was  wrapped  in  swaddling  clothes, 
and  laid  in  a  manger  ;  no  regal  pomp  attended  his  arrival ;  no 
loud  acclaim  of  rejoicing  thousands  announced  his  near  ap- 
proach ;  but  a  single  band  of  angels  was  heard  at  midnight  by 


ARISING  FROM   THE  POSSESSION  OF  TALENTS.  283 

the  solitary  shepherds,  and  tlie  notes  of  tliat  music,  whicli 
swelled  softly  over  tlie  distant  hills  of  Judea,  pi'oclaimed  peace 
on  earth  and  good  will  to  men. 

But  far  different  is  his  coming  now.  He  comes  not  as  a 
babe,  but  as  a  monarch ;  not  as  a  king  of  wealth,  but  as  Lord 
of  the  universe.  A  multitude,  such  as  no  man  can  number 
is  around  him,  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  attend  him  as 
he  moves,  and  thousands  of  thousands  proclaim  his  approach, 
and  their  voice  is  like  the  noise  of  many  waters,  and  like  the 
sound  of  mighty  thunderings,  as  they  cry  aloud  :  "  Lift  up 
your  heads,  oh,  ye  gates,  and  be  ye  lifted  up  ye  everlasting 
doors,  and  the  King  of  Glory  shall  come  in.  Who  is  this 
King  of  Glory?  the  Lord  of  hosts,  the  Lord  mighty  in  battle, 
he  is  the  King  of  Glory."  He  sits  on  the  clouds  of  the  sky  ; 
he  is  borne  on  the  wings  of  the  wind  ;  darkness  is  round  about 
him,  and  thick  darkness  is  his  pavilion.  Is  this  the  man  of 
sorrows?  Is  this  the  babe  of  Bethlehem?  Behold,  he  travels 
in  the  greatness  of  his  strength,  he  has  trodden  alone  the 
wine-press  of  his  wrath,  his  red  right  hand  hath  gotten  him 
the  victory.  He  is  come  in>  flaming  lire  to  take  vengeance  on 
his  enemies,  clothed  in  the  robes  of  justice,  and  armed  with  the 
thunders  of  Omnipotence.  Hark !  did  you  hear  that  sound, 
which  swells  through  heaven,  and  reaches  over  the  earth,  and 
trembles  through  the  dark  caverns  of  the  pit?  Are  these  the 
tones  of  that  soft  music,  which-once  was  heard  amid  the  moun- 
tains of  Judea?  No,  it  is  the  voice  of  the  archangel,  it  is 
the  trump  of  God,  it  is  the  summons  to  the  judgment  bar! 
He  comes,  but  oh,  how  difterent  is  his  advent  from  his  de- 
parture ?  Wlien  he  hung  on  the  cross,  the  sun  did  for  a  sea- 
son hide  his  head  in  shame,  when  he  cried,  "  It  is  finished,"  and 
bowed  his  mighty  head  and  gave  up  the  ghost ;  a  little 
while  the  conscious  earth  might  shake  at  tlie  foul  deed  by  her 
fierce  children  done,  and  when  he  rose  on  high  he  bore  one 
mortal  back,  the  thief  upon  the  cross,  to  be  in  paradise  with 
him.  But  now  at  his  approach,  the  sun  is  blotted  out,  the 
heavens  are  rent  asunder,  the  elements  melt  with  fervent  heat; 
the  earth,  convulsed   through   all  her  kingdoms,  dashes  forth 


284        DUTY,  ENCOURAGEMENT,  AND   RESPONSIBILITY 

the  affrighted  dead  of  a  thousand  generations ;  the  sea  gives 
up  her  dead,  and  Death  and  Hell  give  up  their  dead.  Behold 
they  come  from  the  north  and  the  south,  from  the  east  and 
west,  from  every  nation  under  heaven ;  from  the  populous 
city  and  the  retired  village ;  from  the  cultivated  fields  and 
the  desert  plain  ;  from  the  monuments  of  the  rich,  and  the 
graves  of  the  poor.  They  come  from  the  caves  of  the  wilder- 
ness, from  the  darkest  and  most  sequestered  corners  of  the 
earth.  They  awake  from  the  sleep  of  ages,  they  rise,  they 
spring  from  the  ruins  of  old  Babylon  and  Nineveh,  from  the 
churches  and  cemeteries  of  modern  days.  They  rise  together, 
the  father  and  the  child,  the  husband  and  the  wife,  the  pastor 
and  the  people,  the  murderer  and  the  murdered,  the  seducer 
and  his  victim.  Oh,  what  an  assembly  will  be  there  !  God 
will  be  there  on  the  throne  of  his  Judgment ;  the  holy  angels 
will  be  there  awaiting  his  commands ;  the  fiends  of  hell  will 
burst  forth  from  their  dark  caverns  to  be  there  ;  the  spirits  of 
just  men  made  perfect  will  be  there  ;  the  danmed  who  have 
sunk  from  this  Gospel  land  into  darkness  and  eternal  night, 
will  all  be  there.  And  the  conquerors  of  the  earth  will  be 
there ;  and  the  hypocrites  will  be  there ;  and  the  bold  blas- 
phemers, atheists,  will  all  be  there.  Pilate,  Herod,  Judas,  will 
be  there  ;  you  and  I  will  be  there  ! 

Shall  we  not  arm  ourselves,  then,  for  the  warfare  in  which 
we  are  engaged,  and  summon  up  every  power  for  the  mighty 
enterprise  in  which  we  are  embarked  ?  The  world  has  reached 
a  new  era ;  the  breath  of  a  new  spirit  has  been  breathed  upon 
it ;  a  new  impulse  has  been  given  to  its  movements ;  a  new 
life  is  flowing  through  all  its  members,  and  all  the  elements 
of  moral  and  intellectual  being  are  tossing  to  and  fro  in  cease 
less  agitation  like  the  waters  of  the  mighty  deep.  The  men 
of  this  world  have  caught  the  spirit  of  their  age,  their  minds 
are  wound  up  to  the  emergencies  of  the  times ;  behold  how 
they  prepare  for  its  conflicts,  how  they  struggle  for  its  prizes ; 
what  zeal,  what  self-denial,  what  boundless  energy!  They 
contend  for  an  earthly  crown,  we  for  a  heavenly.  And  can  it 
be  that  we,  with  the  high  and  commanding  motives  drawn 


ARISING  FROM  THE  POSSESSION   OF   TALENTS.  285 

from  eternity  bearing  down  upon  us,  shall  be  less  energetic 
and  vigorous  than  they  ?  Less  active  by  day,  less  laborious 
by  night ;  less  ardent  in  our  aspirations,  less  patient  in  our 
self-denial?  Shall  we  not  enter  along  with  them  on  every 
Held  of  lofty  tliought  and  deep  investigation,  urging  on  our 
inquiries  and  pushing  forward  our  victories  ;  erecting  no  monu- 
ment to  our  own  glory,  but  humbly  bringing  all,  gold,  frank- 
incense, and  myrrh,  whatever  is  costliest  and  most  pleasant, 
to  the  feet  of  Jesus.  Thus  to  aspire  after  the  very  highest 
attainments ;  tlius  to  agonize  after  the  complete  perfection  of 
your  intellectual  and  moral  nature — this  is  the  spirit  of  the 
Gospel.  Is  it  ambitious  ?  Then  who  cares  for  words  ?  I 
tell  you  to  be  ambitious,  to  covet  earnestly  the  best  gifts. 
This  is  ever  to  forget  what  is  behind,  and  press  on  toward 
the  mark ;  this  is  to  be  straitened  till  your  work  is  accom- 
plished— to  endure  tlie  restlessness  of  a  felt  discomfort,  while 
aught  remains  to  be  accomplished. 

But  remember,  it  is  sacred  talents,  it  is  consecrated  learning, 
of  which  I  speak.  Beware,  lest  in  the  ardor  of  your  pursuit 
you  forget  the  only  proper  object^;  lest  you  substitute  the  means 
for  the  end,  and  accumulate  knowledge  not  to  be  devoted  to 
the  Lord,  but  for  your  own  personal  aggrandizement.  And 
even  those  who  have  neither  the  opportunity  nor  the  capacity 
for  larger  intellectual  attainments,  are  not  excluded  the  spirit 
of  these  remarks,  for  to  the  extent  of  their  possible  improve- 
ment they  are  strictly  applicable  to  th3m ;  nor  is  any  thing 
better  calculated  to  preserve  the  purity,  and  extend  the  influ- 
ence of  the  Gospel,  than  the  general  intelligence  diffused 
through  a  Christian  community.  But  this  improvement  of  our 
talents  is  demanded  as  a  duty,  not  only  by  the  command  of 
God,  but  by  our  own  interests.  Without  this  diligent  improve- 
ment, all  the  high  endowments,  and  precious  privileges  be- 
stowed upon  us,  will  be  given  in  vain.  All  the  advantages  of 
nature,  and  all  the  blessings  of  God,  will  be  entirely  wasted. 
In  vain  is  the  book  of  nature  spread  out  before  our  eyes,  in 
vain  is  the  volume  of  revelation  placed  in  our  hands,  if  we  turn 
away  in  heedless  indifference  from  both.     In  vain  are  all  the 


286         DUTY,  ENCOURAGEMENT,  AND   RESPONSIBILITY 

anxieties  of  parents,  in  vain  all  the  solicitude  of  friends,  in  vain 
all  the  efforts  of  instructors  and  pastors.  Thousands  are 
known  to  burst  through  all  these  barriers  in  their  way,  and 
rush  headlong  down  the  precipice  of  ruin,  destroying  in  their 
course  all  present  prospects  and  all  future  hopes,  making  ship- 
wreck alike  of  character  and  faith,  and  alienating  all  human 
affection,  as  well  as  grieving  away  God's  holy  Spirit.  By -all 
that  is  solemn  then,  in  God's  authoritative  command,  by  all 
that  is  dear  in  our  own  eternal  interests,  is  enforced  upon  us 
the  duty  of  improving  the  talents  we  possess.  Consider  next, 
II.  Tlie  encouragements  to  this  improvement.  What  are 
they  ?  The  very  strongest  encouragement  lies  in  the  posses- 
sion of  these  talents.  It  is  a  clear  indication  of  God's  design. 
There  is  in  all  his  works  nothing  supei-fluous,  nothing  unadapt- 
ed  to  the  circumstances  in  which  it  is  placed,  or  the  uses  to 
which  it  is  to  be  applied.  The  dove  has  not  the  beak  or  tal- 
ons of  a  vulture,  nor  the  ox  the  tusks  and  claws  of  the  lion. 
Man  has  not  the  fins  and  gills  of  the  fish;  nor  the  fish  the 
limbs  and  lungs  of  a  man.  Each  is  adapted  to  the  ele- 
ment in  which  he  is  to  live,  and  the  organs  for  seizing  on  his 
prey,  for  masticating  and  digesting  his  food,  are  exactly  suited 
for  the  mode  of  life  he  is  designed  to  pursue.  And  it  is  with 
the  mind  as  with  the  body.  The  very  structure  of  the  moral 
and  intellectual  powers,  indicates  their  design  and  use.  Tlie 
very  circumstances  in  whicli  man  is  placed,  point  out  the  pur- 
poses to  which  these  poAvers  are  to  be  applied.  Now  this  de- 
sign cannot  fail,  except  through  our  fault,  through  a  wilful  or 
negligent  perversion  of  these  powers.  In  vain  would  an  ox 
attempt  to  fly,  or  any  irrational  creature  attemj^t  to  speak  or 
reason,  because  it  is  contrary  to  liis  whole  organization,  to  the 
very  design  of  his  Creator,  the  end  and  object  of  his  being. 
But  man  is  formed  for  this  very  j^urpose,  to  know  and  love 
and  serve  God.  He  is  capable  of  advancing  in  intellectual 
and  moral  cultivation,  in  holiness  and  conformity  to  God's 
image,  and  his  whole  organization,  as  well  as  the  circumstances 
in  which  he  is  placed,  and  the  opportunities  he  enjoys,  pro- 
claim this  to  be  the  end  and  object  of  his  existence.     As  surely 


AEISING   FROM  THE   POSSESSION   OF   TALENTS.  287 

then,  as  God  exists,  so  surely  can  this  end  be  attained.  Never 
fear  then  to  aim  at  large  advancements  in  holiness  and  wisdom 
and  knowledge.  Shall  the  Imge  leviathan  fear  to  plough  his 
own  watery  element,  or  the  eagle  to  fly  up  toward  the  sun  ? 
Then  may  man  fear  the  boldness  of  that  voice  which  calls  him 
upward  to  his  native  element,  points  out  to  him  his  exalted 
destiny,  and  exhorts  him  to  fuliill  it  to  the  utmost.  Let  your 
aim  be  high,  and  your  attainments  shall  be  great,  and  your 
influence  shall  be  wide. 

Another  encouragement  may  be  found  in  the  promise  of 
God,  confirmed  as  it  is  by  our  own  experience  and  the  univer- 
sal analogy  of  his  moral  government  on  earth.  The  very  com- 
mand of  God  implies  a  corresponding  promise.  He  is  not  an 
austere  man,  a  hard  master,  a  Pharaoh  requiring  bricks  to  be 
made,  and  supplying  no  straw  for  the  work.  He  says  expressly, 
''  I  have  not  said  to  the  house  of  Israel,  Seek  ye  my  face  in 
vain."  He  promises  aid  to  human  infirmity,  and  "  as  a  father 
pitietli  his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  him." 
His  promises  are  numerous,  and  unlimited  :  "  Seek,  and  ye 
shall  find,"  "  Knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened ;"  and  here  the 
command  is :  "  Give  to  him  that  has  ten  talents,  for  to  him 
that  hath  shalb^iore^e  given."  "  This  is  a  universal  rule  in  the 
natural  and  moral  world.  All  things  lend  to  multiply  them- 
selves. All  moral  qualities,  good  or  bad ;  all  intellectual  hab- 
its, wealth,  learning,  influence,  all  tend  to  their  own  increase. 
Nothing  is  stationary  ;  there  is  no  perfect  quiescence,  but  per- 
petual change.  Growth  and  decay  are  the  universal  law.  So 
in  the  world  of  grace,  there  is  nothing  stationary  here.  The 
Christian  gets  more  grace ;  the  sinner  loses  what  he  has,  and 
heaps  up  wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath.  God  gives  as 
man  is  willing  to  receive.  Open  your  mouth  wide  and  it  shall 
assuredly  be  filled.  There  is  a  mysterious  union  between 
divine  and  human  agency.  It  is  a  gift,  a  free  gift,  an  unmer- 
ited gift,  and  yet  is  its  extent  measured  by  the  diligence  of  the 
recipient  in  improving  his  blessings. 

HI.  What  are  our  responsibilities  for  the  improvement  and 
application  of  our  talents  ?     This  view  gives  a  grave  and  sol- 


288         DUTY,  ENCOURAGEMENT,  AND   RESPONSIBILITY 

emn  import  to  all  of  human  life  and  hnraan  relations.  Man  is 
the  servant  and  steward  of  the  Lord,  and  all  that  concerns 
him  partakes  of  the  dignity  of  this  high  revelation.  Of  a 
steward  it  is  expected  that  lie  be  faithful.  And  oh,  what 
a  fearful  spectacle  does  this  world  exhibit  when  thus  con- 
sidered. Look  abroad,  and  behold  the  talents  and  blessings, 
the  enjoyment  and  privileges,  the  means  of  happiness,  and  op- 
portunities of  improvement  and  usefulness  bestowed  on  man, 
and  think  how  all  are  wasted,  abused,  perverted.  Oh,  what  a 
fearful  reckoning  there  must  come  at  last !  Those  men  of  in- 
fluence and  popularity,  wiio  exert  their  temporary  importance 
to  deceive,  to  injure,  to  corrupt  the  community  that  trusts 
them ;  those  men  of  genius  and  learning,  who  wield  the  mighty 
powers  intrusted  to  them  for  holiest  purposes,  that  they  pro- 
mote immorality  and  sin  ;  those  rich  men,  who  heap  up  gold 
to  gratify  their  appetites,  their  vanity,  or  avarice  ;  who  use  the 
good  gifts  of  God  to  dishonor  his  name,  and  close  their  ears 
and  harden  their  hearts  against  the  cry  of  the  needy,  the  igno- 
rant and  distressed.  Oh,  how  shall  they  answer  when  the  day 
of  reckoning  shall  come,  when  all  their  ingenuity  shall  find  no 
excuse,  and  all  their  wealth  can  purchase  no  reprieve ;  and  in- 
stead of  the  adulations  of  a  senseless  crowd,  shall  burst  upon 
their  ears  the  deep  execrations  of  those  they  have  ruined  by 
their  example,  the  indignant  hiss  of  an  assembled  universe. 

But  of  those  who  shall  tremble  before  the  bar  of  God  on  this 
fearful  da}^  of  reckoning,  most  awful  is  the  destniy  of  hira, 
who  degraded  his  high  endowments  to  base  purposes,  and 
used  his  extensive  influence  only  to  pollute  and  to  destroy. 
We  need  not  wander  beyond  the  limits  of  our  own  age  and 
nation  to  find  men  enough,  who,  gifted  with  a  popular  elo- 
quence the  most  commanding  and  persuasive,  and  social 
qualities  the  most  winning  and  attractive,  have  yet  employed 
these  advantages  for  the  worst  purposes  ;  have  pleased  only  to 
corrupt,  and  fascinated  only  to  ruin  ;  have  held  the  torch  of 
their  genius  on  high,  not  to  difi'use  a  pure  and  heavenly  light, 
but  to  mislead  all  who  followed,  to  consume  all  who  ap- 
proached.    There  is  an  instance  but  too  well  known  through- 


ARISIJ^a  FROM  THE   POSSESSION  OF  TALENTS.  289 

out  the  world,  and  to  whom,  even  before  I  mention  his  name, 
the  thoughts  of  all  will  spontaneously  turn.  I  mean  that  strange 
and  wayward  genius,  who  in  the  memory  of  us  all,  drew  the 
eyes  of  all  the  world  upon  himself  in  alternate  admiration,  pity, 
and  terror.  He  is  far  beyond  human  praise  or  blame,  nor  even 
if  he  lived,  could  the  voice  which  now  addresses  you,  ever 
reach  him  from  this  distant  land,  or  add  one  pang  to  the 
agonies  of  that  dark  and  gloomy  spirit.  Endow^ed  with  all 
the  advantages  of  nature  and  fortune,  by  birth  a  noble,  by 
education  a  scholar,  by  nature  a  poet,  uniting  in  his  single  per- 
son all  that  mankind  are  most  accustomed  to  admire ;  to  what 
beneficent  purposes  might  he  not  have  devoted  his  amazing 
genius ;  what  a  holy  light  might  he  not  have  shed  along  his 
path  ;  what  a  blessed  memory  might  he  not  have  left  behind 
him,  associated  with  all  that  is  loveliest  in  domestic  feelings, 
that  is  kindest  in  social  sympathies,  that  is  purest  in  moral 
principles.  But  habituated  from  earliest  childhood  to  the  in- 
dulgence of  every  passion,  a  sceptic  without  examination,  a 
sensualist  without  shame,  his  creed  was  the  dictate  of  his  heart, 
rather  than  his  head,  and  his  practice  was  the  best  refutation 
of  his  principles.  Intoxicated  with  success,  dizzied  with  the 
elevation  he  had  reached,  maddened  by  the  consciousness  of 
intellectual  power,  he  poured  out  from  the  gall  of  his  own 
agitated  spirit,  the  bitterness  of  his  scornful  derision  on  all 
human  hopes  and  virtues,  on  all  that  was  fairest,  and  loveliest, 
among  men.  After  a  life  which  was  stained  with  almost  every 
vice,  he  consecrated  the  last  energies  of  a  body,  worn  out  with 
self-indulgence,  and  of  a  mind  wrecked  by  ungovernable  pas- 
sions, to  erect  a  monument  of  moral  infamy,  fit  emblem  of  its 
author's  mind,  where  the  flashes  of  genius  burst  irregularly 
forth,  more  brilliant  from  surrounding  desolation,  and  all  that 
is  revolting  in  brutal  lusts  is  ingeniously  veiled  and  rendered 
seductive  by  all  that  is  most  splendid  in  poetic  imagery  and 
diction.  His  ])rofligacy  was  as  great  as  his  talents,  "  of  which," 
to  use  the  quaint  language  of  an  ancient  writer,  "  God  gave 
him  the  use,  and  the  Devil  the  application."  He  employed 
the  most  exalted  powers  for  the  worst  purposes,  wielded  the 
13 


290         DUTY,  ENCOURAGEMENT,  AND   RESPONSIBILITY 

sword  of  an  archangel  with  the  malignity  of  a  fiend,  and 
l^lucked  a  brand  from  hell  to  set  the  world  on  fire.  Oh,  was 
not  that  a  feai-ful  but  righteous  retribution,  when  he,  who  de- 
rided all  domestic  peace  and  virtue,  was  himself  driven  out 
from  all  its  enjoyment;  when  he  w^ho  had  in  the  very  wanton- 
ness of  scepticism,  thrown  out  upon  the  world  his  gloomy 
doubts,  found  them  gathering  in  a  dark  and  thick  cloud  around 
his  own  head ;  when  that  abused  understanding  was  wrecked 
by  the  passions  it  had  nourished,  and  that  feverish  frame  w^orn 
out  by  the  vices  it  had  practised,  and  he  who  had  been  the  idol 
of  nations,  sank  to  the  level  of  the  lowest,  became  the  daily 
companion  of  those  whose  very  touch  is  pollution,  and  very 
name  modesty  may  not  mention. 

Thus  it  is  that  even  in  this  world  the  visitations  qf  God's 
mercy  are  often  converted  into  the  visitations  of  his  wrath  ; 
that  talent  after  talent  is  given,  neglected,  perverted,  till  for- 
tune, intellect,  character,  conscience,  health  are  gone;  then 
cast  the  unprofitable  servant  into  outer  darkness ;  there  shall 
be  wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth. 

We  have  seen  the  wicked,  like  the  green  bay-tree,  lifting 
its  summit  toward  heaven,  extending  its  branches  abroad  over 
the  earth,  but  there  was  rottenness  at  the  heart  while  all  was 
fair  without,  and  now  every  leaf  has  withered,  every  branch 
dropped  away,  and  it  remains  towering  alone  in  dead  and 
gloomy  grandeur.  The  dews  of  heaven  do  not  revive  it,  nor 
the  moisture  of  earth  nourish  it.  In  vain  does  the  sunshine 
play  around  its  head,  or  the  shower  moisten  its  roots.  The 
seasons  may  come  and  go,  the  wdnter  may  pass  away,  and  the 
spring  may  bloom  again  and  all  around  look  beautiful  and  gay, 
but  never  shall  it  revive  from  that  long  decay.  We  have  seen 
how  the  candle  of  the  Lord  hath  shone  upon  the  tabernacle  of 
the  ungodly,  how  he  exulted  in  that  light  w^hich  beamed  and 
played  so  gloriously  around  him,  as  if  this  were  light  of  his 
own  creation,  as  if  these  were  sparks  of  his  own  kindling. 
Now  this  light  is  extinguished,  and  "  he  is  cast  into  outer 
darkness,"  the  darkness  which  reigns  without  the  limits  of  that 
region,  where  the  light  of  life  and  happiness  is  never  known  to 


ARISING   FROM  THE   POSSESSION   OF   TALENTS.  291 

beam.  Oh,  what  is  it  that  constitutes  tlie  light  of  life  ?  All 
this  is  lost— the  light  of  heaven,  of  earth,  of  joy,  of  hope,  of 
social  hapi:)iness ;  and  the  light  of  reason  and  of  conscience 
only  shines  to  show  hoAv  just  the  retribution,  how  gloomy  the 
flames  that  roll  and  boil  around.  Oh,  how  deep  is  this  dark- 
ness, this  outer  darkness,  this  eclipse  of  all  man's  brightest 
powers,  this  fearful  wreck  of  all  his  mightiest  energies! 

Those  energies  are  not  destroyed,  but  inverted ;  finding  no 
food  without,  they  turn  inward  on  themselves,  the  gnaAving  of 
a  worm  that  never  dies,  the  everlasting  torture  of  a  flame  that 
burns  forever,  and  consumes  not,  yet  is  not  quenched.  That 
memory,  once  the  receptacle  of  all  knowledge,  where  was  once 
stored  up  all  that  is  instructive  in  history,  or  profound  in 
philosophy,  or  agreeable  in  fiction,  is  now  the  dark  depository 
of  gloomy  recollections.  The  ghosts  of  departed  hours,  rise 
up  in  terrible  array  and  shriek  out  in  terrified  tones  the  deeds  of 
secret  sin.  The  conscience,  once  seared  over  with  a  hot  iron,  now 
regains  her  feeling;  once  lulled  to  repose,  she  now  awakes  and 
springs  up  with  new  terror  from  her  sleep,  like  a  strong  man 
armed.  Like  a  giant  from  his  slumbers  does  she  come,  and  a 
host  of  long-forgotten  sins  follows  in  her  train.  These  are 
the  serpents  which  once  seduced,  and  now  are  vipers  coiling 
in  the  hair,  and  lashes  of  the  furies  that  pursue  you.  That 
imagination,  once  rich  in  images  of  loveliness  and  beauty, 
is  now  filled  with  all  that  is  dark  and  terrible.  Once  it  was 
the  mirror  from  which  was  gloriously  reflected  all  the  loveli- 
ness and  grandeur  of  earth  and  sky,  now  gloomily  shadowing 
out  its  own  dark  destiny,  and  the  black  scenery  around.  Those 
faculties,  large  to  embrace  and  vigorous  to  grasp,  yet  blind  in 
their  might,  have  crushed  all  the  objects  of  their  wild  desire, 
and  are  turned  in  maddened  energy  upon  themselves.  As  if 
the  rabid  tiger  should  fasten  in  his  own  flesh  those  weapons 
of  destruction  designed  for  his  prey.  As  if  the  serpent,  blind 
with  venom,  should  sink  its  fangs  into  its  own  body,  and  coil- 
ing with  aimless  rage,  writhe  amidst  the  maddening  pressure 
of  its  own  folds,  crushing  each  bone,  bursting  each  sinew, 
rending  each  nerve,  bloated  with  its  own  poison,  weltering  in 


292  DUTY,  ENCOURAGEMENT,  RESPONSIBILITY,  ETC. 

its  own  blood;  or  rather  like  the  fierce  volcano  rent  with  in- 
ternal convulsion,  hot  with  internal  fires,  feeding  from  its  own 
bosom  the  flames  that  consume  it. 

Oh,  say  you,  I  believe  not  a  hell  of  outward  fire?  What 
matters  it,  that  there  is  no  fire  without,  if  all  be  flame  within  ? 
The  brain  is  the  organ  of  feeling ;  what  matters  it,  if  my  hand 
or  my  foot  are  not  in  the  flame,  but  the  fire  is  kindled  in  the 
soul,  and  all  within  is  boiling,  seething  with  the  heat  ?  Now 
the  soul  is  the  seat  of  that  feeling,  of  which  the  brain  is  but 
the  organ.  What  matters  it  then,  if  my  body  be  not  burned, 
but  my  soul  is  all  flame,  a  living  fire,  unquenchable,  blazing 
madly  up  with  its  own  evergrowing  heats  !  Behold  that 
wretch,  the  prey  of  spontaneous  combustion,  he  is  not  in  the 
fire,  but  the  fire  is  in  him,  pouring  through  all  his  veins,  burst- 
ing from  all  his  pores,  parching  every  tendon,  torturing  every 
nerve,  heating  every  muscle,  boiling  at  the  heart,  and,  like  a 
furnace  sevenfold  heated,  glowing  at  the  brain.  Ah,  I  care 
not  for  the  sufferings  of  the  body,  if  the  soul  be  at  ease ;  nor 
of  the  body,  if  the  soul  be  in  torment ! 


XIV. 

THE  FAITHFUL  SAYING. 


1  Tnr.  i.  15. — "This  is  a  faithful  saying,  and  worthy  of  all  acceptation,  tliat 
Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners,  of  whom  I  am  chief." 


The  old  heathen  were  accustomed  to  gather  around  their 
wise  and  aged  men,  and  listen  with  deepest  reverence  and 
profound  attention  to  the  shrewd  and  sagacious  sayings  that 
fell  from  their  lips.  These  rer.iarks  they  treasured  up  in  their 
memories,  and  recorded  for  the  instruction  of  future  genera- 
tions ;  and  thus  embahned  in  the  love  and  admiration  of  man- 
kind, they  passed  down  from  father  to  son,  through  successive 
centuries ;  and  they  constitute,  in  reality,  all  that  is  called,^the 
wisdom  of  the  early  ages. 

Many  of  these  "  sayings  "  we  still  possess,  which  have  come 
down  to  us,  venerable  for  their  antiquity,  stamped  with  the 
approbation  and  laden  Avith  the  accumulated  wisdom  of  suc- 
cessive generations, — sayings  of  high  repute  in  their  day, 
which  immortalized  their  authors, — "  golden  sayings,"  as  they 
were  called,  which  were  blazoned  in  letters  of  gold,  and  en- 
graven on  pillars  of  brass,  and  Jumg  up  on  tablets,  as  conse- 
crated things,  in  the  temple  of  their  gods.  But,  Oh,  brethren  ! 
where  among  them  all  shall  we  find  a  saying  to  be  compared 
with  this, — one  so  full  of  divine  instruction,  of  heavenly  wis- 
dom, of  precious  consolation,  of  unutterable  love  and  conde- 
scension as  this — "  that  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to 
save  sinners  ?"  IIow  dift'erent  from  all  we  have  ever  heard 
before,  from  all  we  could  have  expected  ! 

Another  saying  had  come  down  to  us  from  of  old,  even  from 
our  first  father,  when  the  voice  of  the  Lord  was  heard  in  the  gar- 


294  THE  FAITHFUIj  SAYING. 

den  of  paradise,  and  when  pointing  to  the  tree  of  knowledge, 
he  said,  "  The  day  thou  eatest  thereof,  thou  shalt  surely  die.'* 
When  that  fatal  sin  had  been  committed,  the  same  awful  voice 
was  heard  again  in  the  garden,  dragging  the  guilty  and 
trembling  transgressor  from  his  hiding-place  of  shame,  and 
saying,  "  Cursed  is  the  earth  for  thy  sake,  dust  thou  art,  and 
unto  dust  thou  shalt  return ;"  and  then  he  was  driven  from 
the  garden  into  an  accursed  world,  with  the  blight  still  pursu- 
ing him  to  the  grave,  and  following  onward,  a  terrible  inherit- 
ance of  woe  to  all  his  posterity.  Once  hath  God  spoken,  yea, 
twice  hath  he  uttered  his  voice.  Once,  amidst  the  peaceful 
shades  and  quiet  walks  of  paradise,  and  then  again  from  the 
blazing  top  of  Mount  Sinai.  There  amidst  the  fire  and  smoke 
of  that  tremendous  scene,  amidst  the  glare  of  vivid  lightning, 
and  the  loud  thunder-crash  from  quaking  mountain,  and  the 
wild  convulsion  of  all  the  elements  was  uttered  again,  under 
new  circumstances  of  overwhelming  sublimity  and  awe,  the 
curse  original  against  Adam,  "  Cursed  is  every  one  that  con- 
tinueth  not  in  all  things,  written  in  this  book  of  the  Law,  to 
do  them !"  But  how  cursed  ?  Hear  the  book  of  the  Law. 
"  Cursed  in  city,  cursed  in  field,  in  thy  basket  and  in  thy  store ; 
in  the  fruit  of  thy  body,  and  in  the  fruit  of  thy  land  ;  in  thy  go- 
ing out,  and  in  ihj  coming  in."  "For  a  fire  is  kindled  in 
mine  anger,  and  shall  burn  to  the  lowest  hell,  and  shall  con- 
sume the  earth  with  her  increase,  and  shall  set  on  fire  the 
foundations  of  the  mountains." 

From  that  day  to  this,  amongst  all  nations  of  the  globe,  and 
in  every  age  down  through  the  long  line  of  Adam's  descend- 
ants, and  through  every  heart  of  man,  has  resounded  that 
fearful  curse,  loudly,  sadly,  mournfully;  deej^ening  all  our 
sorrows,  embittering  all  our  joys,  overshadowing  with  a  black 
and  heavy  cloud  the  whole  of  human  life,  pursuing  us  down 
to  the  grave  itself  with  relentless  justice,  and  not  even  leaving 
us  there,  but  entering  along  with  its  victim  into  the  silent 
place  of  the  dead ;  giving  liis  very  flesh  and  bones  to  rotten- 
ness and  worms ;  and  raising  him  again,  at  the  last  day,  only 
to  the  resurrection  of  damnation.     Each  of  the  prophets,  as  he 


TUK   FAITHFUL   SAYING.  'iD.') 

arose,  took  up  in  liis  day  tliat  bitter  curse;  and  as  he  l()oke<l 
from  liis  watch-tower  abroad  over  tlic  wickedness  of  all  around 
him,  and  downward  upon  the  sins  of  coming  generations,  sent 
it  OH  in  notes  of  judgment,  deepening  and  loudening  as  they 
rolled,  till  at  last,  all  gathered  into  peals  of  deafening  thunder, 
and  the  Old  Testament,  which  began  with  the  primeval  sin 
and  the  primeval  curse,  closes  with  a  dreadful  threat,  that  God 
will  come  again,  in  his  anger,  and  "smite  the  whole  earth  with 
a  curse."  Truly,  "  the  curse  of  the  Lord  dwelleth  in  the  house 
of  the  wicked."  And  well  might  one  of  old  exclaim,  ''  Woe 
unto  the  wicked,  it  shall  be  ill  with  him;  for  the  reward  of  his 
hands  shall  be  given  him." 

But  blessed  be  his  holy  name,  if  the  Old  Testament  closes 
with  a  curse,  the  New  Testament  opens  with  a  blessing.  We 
have  stood  by  the  Mount  that  burned  with  fire,  and  was 
wrapped  in  blackness,  and  darkness,  and  tempest;  and  have 
heard  the  sound  of  the  trumpet  and  the  voice  of  words  so 
terrible,  that  even  Moses  said,  ''  I  exceedingly  fear,  and  quake." 
But  now,  behold,  what  is  it  we  hear,  in  the  darkness  of  the 
night,  amidst  the  solitude  of  the  distant  mountains  and  forests 
of  Judea,  bursting  from  the  broad  sky  above  us,  and  swelling 
as  it  rolls  along  over  hills  and  valleys  around  ?  "  The  angel  of 
the  Lord  came  upon  them,  and  the  glory  of  the  Lord  shone  round 
about  them,  and  they  were  sore  afraid."  Is  it  the  summons  to 
judgment,  the  first  blast  of  the  trumpet,  that  shall  wake  the 
dead  ?  Poor  shepherds,  fallen  children  of  a  corrupted  father, 
how  has  the  guilt  of  that  first  transgression  come  down  to  all 
his  descendants,  and  along  with  gnilt,  first  born  of  sin,  terror 
and  despair !  "  Fear  not  said  the  angel,  for  behold  I  bring 
you  good  tidings  of  great  joy,  which  shall  be  unto  all  people, 
for  unto  you  is  born  this  day  in  the  city  of  David,  a  Saviour, 
which  is  Christ,  the  Lord." 

This  was  the  first  note  of  triumph  and  of  rai)ture  that 
ever  burst  from  the  vaulted  sky  upon  the  ravished  ears  of  men. 
Oh,  tliere  is  sweet  music  in  heaven ;  many  a  song  of  ecstasy 
and  wonder  is  lifted  high  by  angelic  voices,  and  poured  in 
living  melody  from  lips  of  fire,  or  sweetly  floats  in  celestial 


296  THE   FAITHFUL  SATING. 

music  from  tlieir  harps  of  gold !  But  we  never  hear,  except 
on  this  one  occasion,  that  the  joy  was  too  full  for  heaven  to 
hold,  that  the  mighty  outburst  of  those  large  and  heaving 
emotions,  that  swelled  and  expanded  angelic  bosoms,  poured 
in  its  gushing  and  overflowing  abundance  upon  other  worlds. 
But  behold,  "There  was  suddenly  a  multitude  of  the  heavenly 
host ;"  the  full  chorus  of  the  skies  praising  God  and  saying, 
"  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  peace  on  earth  and  good  will 
toward  men."  Oh,  was  not  this  a  saying  well  worthy  of 
every  sinner's  acceptance ;  which  was  thus  announced  with 
joy  by  the  heavenly  messengers,  which  prophets  had  long 
foretold,  which  the  apostles  of  the  Saviour  have  repeated, 
and  our  Lord  himself,  again  and  again  proclaimed,  in  the 
days  of  his  incarnation,  "That  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the 
world  to  save  sinners  ?"  Perhaps  one  will  say.  It  is  good 
tidings  indeed — but  is  it  true?  'Will  he  save?  Can  he 
save  ?  For  answer  we  refer  you  to  his  ofiice,  his  person,  and 
his  character. 

I.  He  was  appointed  of  God  for  this  very  purpose,  and  was 
in  every  respect  adapted  to  it,  being  richly  endowed  with  all 
those  attributes  of  Christ,  and  all  those  gifts  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  necessary  to  the  accomplishment. 

This  was  the  very  purpose  for  which  he  came  into  the  world. 
For  it  is  the  express  and  repeated  testimony  of  the  Scripture, 
"  God  sent  not  his  Son  into  the  world  to  condemn  the  world, 
but  that  the  w^orld  through  him  might  be  saved,"  and  again, 
''  God  so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son, 
that  whosoever  believeth  on  him,  should  not  perish,  but  have 
everlasting  life."  But  again,  "  When  the  fulness  of  time  Avas 
come,  God  sent  forth  his  Son,  made  of  a  woman,  made  under  the 
law,  to  redeem  them  that  were  under  the  law,  that  we  might 
receive  the  adoption  of  sons."  Overwhelmed  with  this  mani- 
festation of  God's  eternal  love,  the  great  apostle  of  love  ex- 
claims, "  Behold  wdiat  manner  of  love  the  Father  hath  bestowed 
upon  us,  that  we  should  be  called  the  sons  of  God  !"  And 
another  apostle  cries  out,  "  God  commendeth  his  love  toward 
us  in   that,  while  we  were  yet  sinners,  Christ  died  for  us,  and 


THE   FAITHFUL   SAYING.  297 

now  we  joy  in  God,  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  by  whom 
we  have  now  received  the  atonement." 

Such  was  the  high  purpose  of  his  mission  ;  and  tinnk  you 
he  was  sent  into  the  world  upon  an  idle  errand,  without  the 
powers  and  qualifications  essential  to  success?  Behold,  thus 
saith  the  Lord  God,  by  the  mouth  of  his  prophet  Isaiah,  xxviii. 
16,  "Behold,  I  lay  in  Sion,"  etc.  "He  was  anointed  with  the 
oil  of  joy  above  his  fellows."  "  God  gave  not  the  Spirit  by 
measure  unto  him."  "  All  power  in  heaven  and  earth  are 
committed  to  his  hands,  in  him  dwelt  all  the  fulness  of  the 
Godhead  bodily."  Li  his  incarnation  upon  earth  "  he  was 
the  brightness  of  the  Father's  glory,  and  express  image  of  his 
person,"  that  fulness  of  him,  that  fiilleth  all  in  all  ;  so  that 
"  when  he  bringeth  in  the  only  begotten  into  the  world,  he 
saith.  Let  all  the  angels  of  God  worship  him.  "At  his  appear- 
ance upon  earth,  "  we  behold  his  glory,"  says  an  apostle, "  as  the 
glory  of  the  only  begotten  of  the  Father,  full  of  grace  and 
truth."  Angels  heralded  his  birth ;  the  star  stood  in  mute 
homage  above  his  cradle,  and  when  he  walked  abroad  upon 
earth,  superhuman  majesty  attended  his  steps ;  the  dead  heard 
his  voice,  and  lived  ;  the  blind  saw ;  the  lame  walked  ;  the 
awed  elements  recognized  their  Lord  ;  and  his  astonished  dis- 
ciples exclaimed:  "What  manner  of  man  is  this?"  But  if 
this  power  be  thus  fully  adequate  to  all  the  purposes  of  his 
high  mission, — his  condescension,  his  tender  sympathy,  his 
meek  and  gentle  love,  adapted  him  still  more  remarkably  to 
be  the  Saviour  of  sinners.  We  needed  such  a  high  priest, 
that  could  be  touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities,  who 
could  have  compassion  on  the  ignorant  and  erring,  who  would 
not  "  break  the  bruised  reed,  nor  quench  the  smoking  flax  ;" 
who  would  lead  his  flock  like  a  shepherd,  gatlier  the  lambs 
with  his  arm,  and  carry  them  in  his  bosom,  and  gently  lead 
those  that  are  with  young. 

Encompassed  as  we  are  with  sorrows,  infirmities,  and  sins, 

how  delightful,  how  soothing,  to  hear  him  cry  aloud,  "  The 

Spirit  of  tlie  Lord  God   is  upon   me,  because  the  Lord  hath 

anointed  me  to  preach  good  tidings  to  the  meek,  to  bind  up 
13* 


298  THE  FAITHFUL  SAYING. 

the  broken-hearted,  to  proclaim  liberty  to  the  captives,  to 
comfort  all  that  mourn,  to  give  unto  them  beauty  for  ashes, 
the  oil  of  joy  for  mourning,  the  garment  of  praise  for  the  spirit 
of  heaviness."  Oh,  brethren,  what  would  all  his  power  be  to  us, 
if  it  were  not  for  his  love !  If  he  stood  before  ns,  clothed  in 
the  robes  of  justice,  and  armed  with  the  terrors  of  Omnipotence ; 
if  the  lightnings  of  indignation  blazed  from  his  burning  eye, 
and  thunderbolts  of  vengeance  quivered  in  his  red  right  hand  ; 
tell  me,  would  not  all  this  boundless  power,  if  wielded  by 
inexorable  justice,  and  guided  by  infinite  holiness  and  wisdom, 
and  divorced  from  a  love  as  boundless  as  itself,  only  serve  to 
heighten  the  sinner's  terror,  and  aggravate  the  sinner's  ruin  ? 
His  power  might  awe  us,  his  justice  alarm,  his  wisdom  over- 
whelm us,  his  omnipresence  bewilder,  but  it  is  only  his  love 
that  could  win,  attract,  soften,  subdue  us,  soothe  our  anxieties, 
quiet  our  alarm,  and  banish  our  apprehensions. 

To  the  old  heathen,  and  to  the  modern  sceptic,  there  is  no 
God  of  love  in  the  heavens.  Behind  the  awful  forms  of  na- 
ture, above  the  starry  sky,  and  wide  beyond  the  outer  limits 
of  the  visible  creation,  pervading  all  the  universe,  and 
strangely  blended  with  it,  there  is  to  him  an  awful,  dark, 
mysterious  power,  who  dwelleth  aloof,  aloft,  and  alone  in  the 
depths  of  silence  and  immensity,  and  the  dark  and  fathomless 
unknown;  and  who,  when  he  issues  from  the  depths  of  his 
infinitude,  to  be  known  of  men,  is  felt  in  the  earthquake's  shock, 
and  heard  in  the  tempest's  moan,  or  seen  in  the  quivering  con- 
vulsions of  nature's  agony,  or  the  wild  and  warring  elements. 
Hence  to  them,  a  messenger  from  heaven  must  be  a  messenger 
of  terror. 

Such  a  messenger  might  well  have  been  sent  to  us,  whose 
presence  would  scathe  the  earth,  and  his  breath  destroy  the 
nations.  How  different  he,  who  came  to  be  the  Saviour  of 
lost  sinners  !  He  assumed  our  nature,  was  born  of  a  woman, 
in  the  silence  of  night,  in  the  solitude  of  the  stable,  amongst 
the  beasts  of  the  stall.  Thou  wast  born  of  woman,  thou 
didst  come,  O  Holiest !  to  this  world  of  sin  and  gloom.  And 
the  whole  history  of  his  life  corresponded  to  the  circumstances 


THE  FAITHFUL  SATING.  299 

of  his  birth,  and  proclaimed  him  the  friend  and  Redeemer  of 
sinners.  "  For  it  became  him,  for  whom  are  all  things,  and 
by  whom  are  all  things,  in  bringing  many  sons  unto  glory,  to 
make  the  captain  of  their  salvation  perfect  through  sufferings." 
Heb.  ii.  10.  "  He  hath  borne  our  griefs,  and  carried  our  sor- 
rows."— Isaiah,  liii.  4.  He  cried  out  in  his  first  discourse, 
"  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit,  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of 
heaven."  Again  he  cried  aloud, "  Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labor 
and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.  Take  my  yoke 
upon  you,  and  learn  of  me  ;  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart, 
and  ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your  souls.  For  my  yoke  is  easy, 
and  my  burden  is  light." 

He  restored  the  widow's  son,  wept  with  Martha,  healed  all 
manner  of  diseases,  took  little  children  in  his  arms  and 
blessed  them,  and  just  before  his  departure,  having  loved  hi? 
own,  loved  them  to  the  end  ;  and  gave  those  touching  admo- 
nitions and  encouragements  in  the  Gospel  of  St.  John,  which 
for  deep  tenderness  surpass  all  that  has  been  left  on  record. 
But  he  not  only  assumed  our  nature,  but  for  us  he  tasted  "the 
bitterness  of  death — and  such  a  death  no  man  could  die — death 
embittered  by  every  element  of  human  agony,  and  superliu- 
man  horror,  ignominious,  prolonged,  and  torturing,  in  which 
he  was  deserted  by  man  and  abandoned  by  God.  Yet  how 
meekly  did  he  drink  the  cup,  how  like  a  lamb  led  to  slaughter, 
how  fervently  did  he  pray  for  his  murderers,  how  kindly  re- 
ceive the  dying  thief ! 

Oh,  this  is  the  Saviour  for  sinners,  such  as  we  are.  It  is 
when  God  becomes  manifest  in  the  flesli,  that  he  who  was  far 
off,  comes  unspeakably,  humanly  near  to  us  ;  that  he,  who  was 
invisible,  comes  forth  from  his  concealment,  and  tabernacles 
among  men.  When  the  ineffable  glory  is  veiled  in  flesh,  and 
royal  majesty  stoops  from  its  throne,  then  only  does  the  sin- 
ner's heart  feel  reassured,  rebellious  feelings  melt  away,  and 
he  who  was  lost  is  prepared  to  join  in  the  song,  "  Unto  him 
that  loved  us  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  liis  blood,  and 
hath  made  us  kings  and  priests  unto  God  and  his  Fatlier ;  to 
him  be  glory  and  dominion  for  ever  and  ever." 


300  THE  FAITHFUL   SATING. 

II.  This  leads  me  to  speak  of  his  person  and  character.  He 
is  God,  the  mighty  God,  the  everlasting  Son  of  God,  by  whom 
the  worlds  were  made.  He  is  God  over  all.  As  such  he  is 
admirably  adapted  to  secure  salvation  for  the  sinner.  Of  liim 
the  prophet  Isaiah  spoke  in  the  Old  Testament,  "  Unto  us  a 
child  is  born,  unto  us  a  son  is  given;  and  the  government 
shall  be  upon  his  shoulder  ;  and  liis  name  shall  be  called  Won- 
derful, Counsellor,  The  Miglity  God,  The  Everlasting  Father, 
The  Prince  of  Peace."  Of  him  the  apostle  Paul  writes  to  the 
Hebrew^s,  saying,  "For  such  a  High  Priest  became  us,  who  is 
holy,  harmless,  undefiled,  separate  from  sinners,  and  made 
higher  than  the  heavens.  Wherefore  he  is  able  to  save  them 
to  the  uttermost,  that  come  unto  God  by  him,  seeing  he  ever 
liveth  to  make  intercession  for  them." 

When  thus  considered,  all  his  attributes  swell  into  infinitude, 
— wisdom,  power,  love,  truth, — all  are  boundless  as  his  nature, 
all  are  pledged  for  the  sinner's  salvation.  They  are  not  simply 
acquiescing,  but  actively  engaged,  solemnly  pledged,  deeply 
committed,  and  that  from  all  eternity ;  disposing  all  things 
for  it,  employing  all  things  in  it,  making  all  things  co-operate 
with  it.  "  All  things,"  says  the  apostle,  "  work  together  for 
good,  to  them  that  love  God,  to  them  who  are  the  called  ac- 
cording to  his  purpose.'^  The  Providence,  Word,  and  Spirit  of 
God,  all  work  for  our  salvation.  Salvation  then  is  as  firm  as 
the  everlasting  hills — firm  as  the  throne  of  God,  certain  and 
enduring  as  his  existence.  "  Every  word  of  grace  is  strong  as 
that  which  built  the  skies."  It  is  not  of  man,  or  angel,  or 
archangel,  the  highest  among  them,  but  of  God  himself  Oh, 
how  meagre  is  the  religion  of  Unitarians !  How  precious  is 
the  doctrine  of  Jesus'  Divinity  !  It  is  the  central  point  in  the 
religion  of  sinners ;  the  foundation  of  our  hopes,  linked  with 
every  view  of  truth  and  duty.  It  secures  an  infinite  atone- 
ment, and  a  renovated  nature.  Thus  Christ  can  save  from  all 
sin,  from  all  the  pains  of  hell,  from  the  curse  of  the  violated 
law,  and  the  terrors  of  a  guilty  conscience. 

This  law  was  perfect,  infinitely  good,  and  infinitely  neces- 
sary for  the  welfare  of  God's  universe.     It  was  indeed  a  tran- 


THE  FAITHFUL  SATING.  301 

script  of  the  Divine  character — the  law  of  a  Divine  nature 
and  mode,  in  conformity  to  its  existence,  indestruetable  as  its 
being.  It  was  stiict,  unbending,  unchangeable,  high  in  its  re- 
quirements! Sooner  shall  heaven  and  earth  pass,  than  one 
jot  or  tittle  of  the  law  fail.  This  law  was  revealed  on  Mount 
Sinai,  and  written  on  the  conscience  of  man ;  so  that  every 
denunciation  which  it  makes,  finds  its  deep  and  dreadful  re- 
sponse there.  Tliis  law  violated,  utters  the  sentence  of  con- 
demnation and  death.  Where  is  safety  ?  No  blood  of  bulls, 
no  sacrifice  of  men,  no  hecatomb  of  angels  or  archangels,  no 
tears,  no  blood  of  man  or  beast,  could  give  safety.  But  help 
was  laid  on  one  mighty  to  save — on  the  man  of  God's  right 
hand — upon  "  the  man  who  is  my  fellow,"  saith  Jehovah.  Tlie 
law  demanded  righteousness,  a  perfect  human  righteousness — 
here  is  one  infinite  and  divine.  The  law  demanded  an  earthly 
sacrifice — behold  here  is  the  Lord  from  heaven.  The  law  de- 
mands a  perfect  separation — behold  here  is  one  that  magnifies 
the  law,  and  clothes  it  with  new  dignity ;  gives  new  sanctions, 
and  encompasses  it  with  higher  sanctity.  The  law  says,  I  am 
satisfied.  The  conscience,  sprinkled  Mith  the  blood  of  the 
atonement,  blood  of  the  Son  of  God,  may  now  enjoy  peace. 
Here  is  the  ark  of  safety.  Here  is  the  city  of  refuge.  The 
Saviour  calls  himself  the  bread  of  life,  the  way  and  the  truth 
and  the  life,  the  good  shepherd,  that  giveth  his  life  for  the 
world.  "I  am  the  door;  by  me  if  any  man  enter  in,  he  shall 
be  saved,  and  shall  go  in  and  out,  and  find  pasture."  "  Truly 
this  is  a  faithful  saying,  and  worthy  of  all  acceptation,  that 
Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners." 


XV. 

THE  POWER  AND  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 


Rom.  i,  16. — "lam  not  ashamed  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ:   for  it  is  the 
power  of  God  unto  Salvation  to  every  one  that  believeth." 


About  the  year  of  our  Lord  58,  a  stranger  appeared  in 
Corinth,  of  Jewish  features  and  Oriental  attire.  A  man  with 
a  bald  head,  an  eagle  eye,  and  of  diminutive  stature  was 
seated  in  a  retired  chamber  in  an  obscure  street  of  that  mag- 
nificent metropolis  with  the  usual  writing  implements  of 
the  day  before  him ;  and  as  the  rapid  words  were  transferred 
to  tablet  or  parchment,  it  was  easy  to  see  that  they  were 
written  in  Greek  characters,  and  retained  the  Greek  sound, 
but  the  sentences  were  moulded  to  the  Hebrew  idiom,  and  the 
earnest  and  solemn  spirit  of  the  old  Hebrew  prophets  breathed 
through  every  line. 

Situated  on  a  narrow  isthmus,  between  two  celebrated  ports 
which  commanded  the  navigation  and  commerce  of  the  Ionian 
and  ^gean  seas,  Corinth  was  then  the  most  magnificent  city 
of  the  globe ;  the  centre  of  Grecian  civilization,  the  home  of 
luxurious  refinement,  the  abode  of  wealth,  splendor,  and  profli- 
gacy. On  every  side  were  seen  temples,  palaces,  theatres, 
porticos,  towering  aloft  in  unparalleled  magnificence,  adorned 
with  the  graceful  columns,  the  capitals,  and  bases  of  the  Corin- 
thian order.  Pre-eminent  above  the  rest  stood  the  temple 
of  the  Corinthian  Venus,  rich  with  the  oflferings  of  innumerable 
devotees ;  and  within  its  walls  were  gathered  one  thousand 
of  the  loveliest  daughters  of  the  land,  consecrated  to  the  foul 
service  of  that  licentious  deity  Jupiter.  Apollo,  Minerva, 
and  many  others  had  their  own   consecrated  edifices,  while  in 


THE   POWER  AND  TRIUMPH   OP  THE   GOSPEL.  303 

each  private  residence  and  all  public  places  of  resort,  wherever 
tlie  eye  could  turn,  the  statues  of  gods  and  heroes  met  the 
gaze,  the  most  exquisite  productions  of  the  great  masters  of 
Grecian  art. 

It  was  from  amidst  this  scene  of  unrivalled  splendor  and 
effeminate  debauchery,  where  the  very  air  reeked  with  the 
foul  pollution  of  its  unmanly  vices,  that  this  unknown  stranger 
wrote.  And  his  letter  was  directed  to  Rome,  the  mistress  of 
nations,  the  acknowledged  metropolis  of  the  world.  And  he 
spake  out  strange,  bold  words  to  those  masters  of  mankind,  in 
that  unpolished  idiom,  and  with  that  gnarled  logic  of  his  own, 
unheard  till  then  by  lordly  or  philosophic  ears — but  words 
that  are  ringing  still  in  the  ears  of  millions,  and  have  been 
through  all  the  centuries,  the  battle-cry  of  conflict  and  vic- 
tory in  every  great  struggle  for  the  renovation  of  the  race. 
That  was  an  age  of  deep  degeneracy.  The  manly  virtues 
of  the  heroic  era  were  no  more.  The  lofty  courage,  the  stern 
and  incorruptible  patriotism  of  the  earlier  republic  had  de- 
parted. There  remained  no  fear  of  God,  no  confidence  in 
man,  no  public  honor,  no  domestic  purity  or  peace.  Rome 
sat,  indeed,  crowned  queen  of  the  world ;  conquered  kings 
adorned  her  triumphs,  subjugated  nations  crowded  in  myriads 
to  the  capitol,  the  wealth  of  the  world  poured  into  her  lap, 
and  along  with  the  wealth  of  conquered  nations  came  their 
vices  too,  to  avenge  their  wrongs.  Solemnity  of  oath  lost  its 
sacredness,  the  worship  of  God  its  reverence.  The  very 
existence  of  God,  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  the  fundamental 
principles  of  morals,  all  were  denied.  All  the  bonds  that  bind 
society  together,  and  restrain  the  beastly  or  fiendish  passions 
of  our  nature,  all  were  dissolved.  If  the  patrician  Cresar 
smiled  in  his  sleeve  as  he  offered  sacrifice  to  Jupiter,  the  philo- 
sophic Pliny  derided  the  immortality  of  the  soul  as  a  vision 
of  human  pride,  and  knew  no  God  but  the  universe. 

It  was  manifest  to  all,  that  human  society  was  hastening 
toward  its  dissolution.  In  vain  did  indignant  patriotism 
denounce  the  unmanly  vices  of  tlie  age  and  invoke  the  spirit 
of  the  mighty  fathers,  jind  i)()iiit   to  the  memorials  of  Rome's 


304  THE   POWER  AND   TEIUMPH   OF  THE   GOSPEL. 

departed  greatness.  He  called,  but  there  was  none  to  answer. 
The  spirit  of  Rome's  dead  fathers  had  departed  forever.  All 
ancient  patriotism  was  gone.  The  Roman  citizen  had  no 
country,  no  home,  no  God,  no  hope,  no  manhood.  In  A'ain  did 
they  appeal  to  the  ancient  superstition,  and  recall  men  to  the 
temples  of  the  gods.  The  very  gods  themselves  as  they  stood 
face  to  face  in  the  Pantheon,  gathered  from  every  country 
under  heaven,  were  the  embodiments,  representatives,  and 
patrons  of  the  vices  of  every  land.  There  was  not  a  passion 
or  a  lust  that  maddens  the  soul  or  corrupts  the  heart,  or  bes- 
tializes  and  degrades  the  nature  of  man,  that  had  not  its 
living  representative  and  exemplar  there.  Men  called  to  philos- 
ophy, but  called  in  vain.  The  oracle  was  dumb.  She  gave 
no  answer,  or  spoke  only  in  mockery  of  human  virtue  and 
human  hope.  What  could  philosophy  do  ?  She  was  without 
a  God,  without  a  conscience,  without  an  immortality.  She 
was  mighty  to  destroy,  but  impotent  to  create.  "  Ye  have 
taken  away  our  gods,"  cried  the  yearning  soul  of  many,  "  and 
what  shall  we  do?  The  sweet  illusions  of  our  childhood, 
the  beautiful  mythology  of  our  earlier  days,  the  Jupiter  of 
Olympus,  with  all  his  attendant  deities,  you  have  swept  away, 
and  where  is  the  substitute  ?  "  And  philosophy  was  dumb,  or 
standing  amidst  the  ruins  she  had  made,  pointed  in  proud  de- 
fiance to  a  godless  universe,  and  a  hopeless  annihilation. 
They  had  shrouded  the  sky  in  blackness,  and  wrapped  earth 
in  sackcloth,  had  struck  the  very  sun  from  the  firmament  of 
our  future  hopes.  They  had  severed  the  last  bond  that  bound 
the  soul  of  man  to  the  throne  of  the  Creator,  and  all  the 
impetuous  fiery  passions  of  his  nature,  loosed  from  their  last 
restraint,  burst  furiously  forth  to  deluge  the  earth  in  wine  and 
lust  and  blood.  Philosophy  herself,  amidst  the  universal 
consternation,  took  refuge  in  Epicurean  self-indulgence,  or 
nursed  herself  to  stoical  indifference,  and  haughtily  and 
gloomily  muttered  forth  mysterious  and  portentous  words 
about  the  great  Unit,  God,  Pan,  World,  All;  irresistible 
destiny,  inevitable  fate,  man's  re-absorption  into  the  infinite, 
and  loss  of  all  personal  existence,  and  proclaimed  as  the  only 


THE   POWER  AND   TRIUMPH   OF  THE   GOSPEL.  305 

solace  for  human  woes,  the  utter  extmction  of  man's  conscious 
being,  and  liis  re-absorption  into  the  infinitude  of  things. 

It  Avas  thus  manifest  to  all,  that  human  society  was  ap- 
proacl}ing  its  total  dissolution.  There  was  no  element  in 
Iniman  nature  which  could  bring  deliverance  or  inspire  hope. 
Amidst  the  universal  helplessness  and  hopelessness  of  man, 
the  great  apostle  speaks.  It  is  a  voice  of  strong  assurance 
and  of  cheerful  liope ;  it  is  the  tone  of  high  authority,  and 
serene  and  lofty  faith.  It  is  a  voice  from  the  throne  of  God 
himself,  so  calm  in  its  sublime  and  solemn  grandeur.  He 
proclaims  that  the  remedy  which  man  would  not  supply  has 
come  from  heaven ;  that  a  divine  power  has  descended  upon 
earth,  which  with  its  silent  but  irresistible  efficacy,  shall  go 
forth  among  the  nations  to  mould  society  anew,  to  save  the 
individual  and  renovate  the  race.  "  I  am  not  ashamed,  for  it 
is  the  j^ower  of  God  unto  salvation  to  all  that  believe !" 
Bold  words  are  these,  thou  Galilean  prophet,  and  boldly 
spoken  indeed,  among  the  sublimest  in  all  human  records,  it 
only  they  be  true  ! 

But  are  they  justified  by  the  results  ?  Let  us  test  them  by 
the  tacts.  Let  us  then  consider  the  Gospel,  first  in  its  con- 
flict with  the  heathen  philosophy,  heathen  morality,  and 
heathen  religion  of  the  first  three  centuries  of  our  era.  When 
thrown  amidst  this  huge  and  sweltering  mass  of  licentiousness 
and  idolatry  and  skepticism,  did  she  vindicate  her  claim  as  a 
divine  and  superhuman  power,  penetrating  by  her  own  silent 
and  unaided  energy  the  entire  mass,  and  moulding  anew  all 
its  chaotic  elements  ?  In  the  conflict  with  all  these  antagonist 
powers  did  she  come  off  victorious?  Let  us  recall  the  nature 
of  the  conflict  to  be  waged,  the  extent  of  the  revolution  to  be 
accomplished,  the  number  and  power  of  her  foes.  The  war 
was  on  either  side  a  war  of  extermination.  The  revolution 
was  to  be  universal,  reaching  all  human  relations,  interests, 
hopes,  fears,  enjoyments,  sufterings, — public,  private,  domestic, 
political,  social,  for  time  and  for  eternity.  The  antagonist 
powers  ruled  everywhere  and  everything.  All  human  interests, 
p  rejudices,  passions,  all  that  could  j^lcase  the  senses  or  dazzle 


306         THE   POWER   AND   TRIUMPH   OF   THE   GOSPEL. 

the  imagination,  or  fire  the  passions,  or  corrupt  the  lieart ;  the 
splendors  of  art,  the  graces  of  poetry,  fond  memories  of  the 
past,  ambitious  hopes  of  the  future,  the  sports  of  the  boy,  the 
graver  business  of  the  man,  temples  and  capitol,  senate  and 
forum,  crowded  theatre,  merry  festival,  the  whole  great  struc- 
ture and  organization  of  human  society,  with  all  its  relations 
and  all  its  duties  and  its  pleasures,  were  pervaded,  imbued, 
steeped  in  the  spirit  of  their  idolatry. 

When  the  apostles  went  forth  to  proclaim  the  Gospel,  it 
met  them  in  every  form,  in  every  quarter  an  omnipresent  foe. 
It  had  appropriated  to  itself  the  whole  domain  of  human  life. 
It  presided  at  birth,  bridal,  and  funeral ;  over  the  deliberations 
of  the  senate,  the  counsels  of  the  camp,  the  conflicts  of  the 
battle-field.  The  domestic  hearth  is  protected  by  the  house- 
hold god,  and  the  statues  of  the  first  fathers  of  the  republic 
stand  side  by  side  with  the  ancestral  deities.  Each  common- 
est utensil  of  domestic  use  is  consecrated  by  the  image  of  a 
god,  and  the  maiden's  chamber  and  the  festal  hall  are  adorned 
alike  with  statues  and  with  paintings  where  the  loftiest 
powers  of  human  genius  are  employed  to  lend  the  fascination 
of  an  ideal  loveliness  to  the  grossest  of  human  passions,  and 
portray  with  inimitable  grace  and  exquisite  minuteness  the  in- 
famous amours  of  their  licentious  deities.  Deep  into  those 
young  imaginations  and  susceptible  hearts  sunk  their  images, 
and  wide  through  all  the  ramifications  of  society  is  difi'used 
the  contagious  pestilence.  But  side  by  side  in  all  that  heathen 
society  walk  lust  and  murder,  for  ever,  from  of  old,  the  love 
of  pleasure  and  the  thirst  for  blood  have  been  twin  sisters. 

Go  with  me,  then,  to  one  of  those  scenes  of  public  pleasure, 
where  high-born  matrons  and  noble  maidens  most  love  to 
crowd,  with  the  teeming  millions  of  Rome's  beastly  popula- 
tion, to  glut  their  eyes  with  blood,  and  regale  their  ears  with 
the  groans  of  butchered  thousands.  Yast  beyond  all  those 
other  stupendous  edifices  which  Roman  wealth  had  erected, 
and  Roman  piety  had  consecrated  to  pleasure  or  to  God,  was 
the  Roman  circus,  extending  in  circumference  a  mile,  and 
seating  within  its  capacious  walls  from  two  hundred  and  fifty 


THE   POWER   AND   TRIUMPH   OF  THE   GOSPEL.  307 

to  three  hunclred  thousand  spectators.  Trajan,  the  best 
of  the  Roman  emperors,  grateful  to  the  immortal  gods  for  a 
glorious  victory,  will  offer  to  them  the  most  congenial  tlianks, 
and  to  the  Roman  citizens  their  best-loved  entertainments. 
Images  of  the  gods  are  borne  in  solemn  procession,  consuls  and 
priests  perform  the  sacred  rites  that  shall  hallow  these  deeds 
of  blood.  Ten  thousand  human  beings,  and  eleven  thousand 
beasts  of  prey,  during  four  successive  weeks,  are  butchered. 
And  yet  they  cry  for  more,  Rome's  stately  senators,  and  lovely 
maidens,  as  well  as  Rome's  more  brutal  populace  still  thirst 
for  blood.  Think  you  that  they  will  hesitate  to  shed  the 
blood  of  those  who  shall  denounce  their  idols  and  interrupt 
their  sports  ? 

Thus  heathenism  has  laid  her  bloody  and  polluted  hand  on 
human  society,  in  every  department  of  private  life,  and  claims 
it  as  her  own.  Government,  too,  is  hers,  and  literature  in  all 
its  branches.  Emperors,  philosophers,  fanatics,  magistrates, 
people,  priests,  wit,  learning,  genius,  argument,  eloquence,  the 
tongue,  the  pen,  the  sword,  all  are  arrayed  against  these  rest- 
less innovators.  Victim  after  victim  falls  an  unresisting  prey 
to  the  fury  of  the  populace,  or  the  zeal  of  magistrates.  Where 
now  is  the  power  which  shall  triumph  over  these  combined 
antagonists  ?  Where  the  thunderbolt,  before  it  leaps  forth  to 
its  work  of  death  ;  the  earthquake,  before  it  heaves  the  moun- 
tains and  shakes  the  earth  in  its  fury  ?  Where  the  great  powers 
that  move  the  worlds  along?  Invisible  to  man.  Thus  is  it 
with  the  Gospel,  slowly,  silently,  irresistibly,  invisible  to  hu- 
man eye,  unheard  by  human  ear,  it  is  moulding  all  things  to 
its  likeness,  subduing  all  things  by  its  power.  A  few  humble 
hearts  have  felt  its  influence.  It  is  to  them  the  power  of  God 
to  purify,  to  cheer,  to  elevate,  to  save.  It  passes  from  bosom 
to  bosom,  from  village  to  village,  whole  communities  receive 
its  joyful  tidings.  Already  in  less  than  half  a  century  from 
the  crucifixion,  the  great  central  cities  of  the  world  are  full 
of  Christians.  Little  more  than  a  half  century  has  passed,  and 
the  distant  provinces  are  crowded  with  converts.  A  philoso- 
phical Pliny  writes  from  his  province   of  Bithynia,  perplexed, 


308  THE  POWER   AND   TRIUMPH  OF  THE    GOSPEL. 

despondent,  to  a  philosophical  Trajan,  complaining  that  the 
temples  are  deserted  and  there  are  none  to  buy  the  victims. 
Men  will  not  even  offer  incense  to  the  image  of  the  emperor. 
A  virtuous  Trajan  wonders  at  the  stupid  madness  of  these 
men,  would  spare  the  effusion  of  blood,  but  the  law  must  have 
its  course  and  the  obstinate  be  executed.  A  philosophical 
Tacitus  shall  write,  that  an  "  immense  multitude  devoted  to 
this  execrable  superstition,"  are  swarming  there  at  Rome.  A 
sanguinary  Xero,  with  that  grim  humor  of  his,  will  have  some 
rare  sport  to-night.  Those  Christians  impaled  alive,  and  cov- 
ered with  pitch,  shall  serve  as  lamp^  and  lamp-posts  too,  to 
illuminate  his  gardens  as  the  imperial  charioteer  drives  in 
drunken  merriment  around.  Satiric  Juvenal  shall  describe 
them  as  they  writhe  and  blaze  in  their  agony,  and  the  streams 
of  pitch  and  blood  flood  the  earth. 

But  have  not  the  fires  of  that  persecution  sent  their  illumina- 
tion throughout  the  globe,  and  flamed  down  over  all  the  cen- 
t  uries  even  to  us  ?  Strange  thoughts  are  moving  in  the  minds 
of  men.  The  great  heart  of  the  Avorld,  long  stupefied  by 
sensuality  and  doubt,  is  awakening  to  new  life,  throbs  high 
with  hope  and  vague  expectations.  The  Gospel  is  in  the 
camp  and  the  court,  in  the  senate  and  palace,  in  the  very 
temple.  The  gods  have  heard  and  are  startled.  Jupiter  of  the 
capitol  has  descended  from  his  throne ;  Apollo  of  Delphi  is 
dumb.  The  haughty  Roman  has  heard  it,  and  paused  mid- 
way in  his  career  of  conquest  to  listen  to  the  story  of  the 
Prince  of  Peace.  The  subtle  Greek  has  heard  it,  and  arrested 
his  noisy  disputations  at  the  mysterious  tidings  of  Jesus  and 
the  resurrection.  The  northern  Scythian  has  heard  it  as  he 
quaffed  his  mingled  portions  of  wine  and  blood  from  a  human 
skull,  and  melted  at  the  gentle  story  of  him  who  shed  his  own 
heart's  blood  to  save  his  enemies.  Palpably  this  is  no  partial 
or  superficial  movement.  It  is  human  society  moving  silently 
and  steadily  on,  beneath  some  mysterious,  unseen  influence 
towards  some  distant  goal.  It  is  the  sweep  and  the  heave 
and  the  surge  of  the  great  world-ocean  moved  from  its  23ro- 
foundest  depths  with  its  whole  universe  of  waters. 


THE  POWER  AND   TRIUMPH  OF  THE   GOSPEL.  309 

We  should  love  to  dwell  on  the  power  of  the  Gospel  as 
manifested  in  the  lives  of  the  early  Christians.  I  know  not 
how  it  may  be  with  other  men,  but  for  myself  there  is  nothing 
in  all  that  history  hath  recorded,  or  poetry  imagined,  or  fiction 
described  ;  nothing  that  so  moves  the  soul  to  reverence,  awes 
it  to  wonder,  subdues  and  overpowers,  as  the  meek  submission, 
touching  tenderness,  gentle  love  and  heroism  of  those  earlier 
Christians.  Go  read  them  in  the  pages  of  Neander,  where  a 
profound  philosophy  is  chastened  by  a  humble  faith  and  ir- 
radiated by  seraphic  love.  A  volume  is  worth  a  library.  But 
Ave  must  hasten  on  to  those  scenes  of  outward  splendor, 
which  most  readily  attract  the  gaze  of  men,  to  the  culminat- 
ing point,  where  the  contest  is  decided,  and  the  Gospel  steps 
visibly  forth  on  the  theatre  of  human  affairs  as  the  power  of 
God,  the  controlling  power  of  the  globe. 

The  Christian  apologist  had  long  before  exultingly  ex- 
claimed, "  We  are  but  of  yesterday,  yet  have  we  filled  all 
places  belonging  to  you  ;  your  cities,  islands,  castles,  towns, 
councils,  the  palace,  the  senate,  the  forum.  We  have  left  you 
only  your  temples."  And  should  the  Christians  withdraw  in 
a  body  from  the  empire,  its  solitude  and  desolation  would  as- 
tound the  world.  Christians  had  meekly  bowed  their  heads 
to  the  axe,  and  marched  boldly  to  the  gibbet  and  stake.  Their 
gentle  virtues  had  won  the  affections  of  mankind ;  their  sub- 
lime philosophy  commanded  their  belief;  their  heroic  courage 
extorted  their  admiration.  Persecution,  satiated  with  blood, 
wearied  with  slaughter,  appalled  by  the  number  of  her  victims, 
had  given  a  temporary  repose.  The  Christians  issued  by 
myriads  from  their  retreats,  crowded  by  thousands  to  their 
churches,  bowed  with  enthusiastic  reverence  at  the  sepulchres 
of  their  butchered  martyrs.  Superstition,  weary  of  delay,  re- 
solved to  precipitate  the  inevitable  crisis,  and  to  stake  its  for- 
tunes on  the  issue  of  one  last  decisive  conflict.  The  hostile 
forces  met  near  the  city  of  Hadrianopolis.  The  heathen  army, 
led  by  Licinius,  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  thousand  in  num- 
ber, was  strongly  posted  and  intrenched  on  the  mountains 
before  the  city,  while  its  front  was  protected  by  th(^  broad  and 


310  THE   POWER   AND   TRIUMPH   OF   THE   GOSPEL 

rapid  stream  of  Hebrus.  The  Christian  army,  a  third  less  in 
number,  lay  in  the  valley  below ;  on  all  sides  it  was  felt  to  be 
a  conflict  between  the  two  religions  for  the  mastery  of  the 
world. 

Before  the  battle  commenced,  the  hostile  leaders  passed  dow^n 
from  rank  to  rank,  firing  their  troops  with  hopes  of  victory. 
Above  was  seen  that  Roman  eagle,  consecrated  with  so  many 
mysterious  and  awful  rites,  which  had  floated  for  centuries 
above  their  armies,  and  beneath  whose  expanded  wings  their 
conquering  cohorts  had  marched  from  victory  to  victory  over  a 
subjugated  world.  Above  the  other  was  seen  only  that  strange 
and  significant  banner,  badge  of  suflering  and  shame — the 
cross.  The  speech  of  the  heathen  emperor  is  still  on  record, 
made  to  his  assembled  oflicers  on  the  eve  of  battle.  Amidst 
the  gloom  of  a  consecrated  grove  and  in  the  presence  of  his 
god,  he  pointed  to  the  images  of  their  ancestral  deities,  be- 
neath whose  guardian  care  the  empire  had  risen  to  glory;  in- 
voked the  spirits  of  their  dead  fathers,  and  appealed  to  their 
pride  as  Roman  citizens,  against  the  followers  of  "  that  foreign 
thing  which  we  now  deride,"  whose  ignominious  sign  was  dis- 
played in  the  van  of  their  apostate  armies. 

The  Christian  leader  pointed  upward  to  that  mysterious 
cross,  memorial  of  him  who  hung  there  in  his  agony  and  love 
and  in  his  name  promised  them  the  victory.  With  that  name 
upon  their  lips,  that  banner  above  them,  they  dashed  impetu- 
ously onward,  through  the  waters  of  the  broad  and  rapid 
stream,  up  the  steep  declivities  into  the  camp  of  the  foe. 
Miracles  of  prowess  and  success  are  recorded  by  heathen  histo- 
rians of  that  day.  It  is  enough  to  know  that  the  pagan  forces 
fled  in  dismay  and  terror,  leaving  thirty-four  thousand  dead 
upon  the  field.  The  banner  of  the  cross  waved  triumphant 
amidst  the  intrenchments  of  the  foe.  From  this  first  great 
conflict  with  superstition  and  philosophy  and  power,  Christian- 
ity has  come  off"  victorious.  The  divided  empire  has  regained 
its  unity,  and  the  nations  repose  beneath  the  dominion  of  a 
Christian  emperor. 

But  far  and  wide  on  the  outer  borders  of  the  empire,  hovers 


THE   POWER    AND   TRIUMPH   OF  THE   GOSPEL.  311 

a  black  cloud  of  fierce  barbarians,  one  hundred  millions,  per- 
haps, in  number,  soon  to  burst  upon  it,  and  bury  all  its  glory- 
beneath  that  overwhelming  inundation.  The  Gospel  has  sub- 
dued that  effeminate  civilization ;  can  it  survive  the  shock  of 
this  barbaric  power  ?  From  the  shores  of  the  Baltic  and  the 
Danube,  of  the  Black  Sea  and  Borysthenes,  from  the  forests 
and  morasses  of  Scythia,  from  the  mountains  and  broad  table- 
lands of  Central  Asia,  from  the  extremities  of  Scandinavia  to 
the  frontiers  of  China,  nation  after  nation  sweeps  on,  crushing 
all  before  it  and  marking  its  path  with  blood  and  desolation; 
wild  nomadic  tribes,  weather-beaten,  toil-hardened  men,  in- 
ured to  war  and  carnage,  with  no  home  but  their  good  steeds, 
no  law  but  their  w^ill,  no  God  but  their  sword,  which  they 
worship  w4th  mysterious  rites.  Their  horrid  worship  is  in 
forests  impervious  to  the  sun,  or  in  subterraneous  caverns,  and 
their  altars  stream  with  human  blood.  Terror  has  united  with 
superstition  to  give  them  an  unearthly  parentage ;  the  wild 
witches  of  the  desert  were  their  fabled  mothers ;  their  fathers, 
those  lost  spirits  that  wander  through  dry  places,  seeking  rest 
and  finding  none.  Swift  as  the  viewless  wind  in  the  depth  of 
winter,  or  in  the  darkness  of  midnight,  they  issue  from  their 
snow-clad  homes  upon  the  fairest  Roman  provinces,  driving 
the  terrified  inhabitants  before  them,  and  destroying  all  with 
fire  and  sword.  If  successful,  they  pursue  their  victories  ;  if 
defeated,  retire  to  their  impenetrable  forests  and  eternal  snows ; 
but  whether  in  advance  or  retreat,  their  path  is  marked  with 
smouldering  ruins  and  pyramids  of  human  skulls. 

They  have  served,  many  of  them,  in  Roman  armies ;  have 
learned  Roman  tactics,  and  marched  with  their  legions  to  vic- 
tory. They  have  visited  as  soldiers  or  as  captives  the  sunny 
South,  have  breathed  the  air  of  Italy,  have  drank  the  wines  of 
Capua,  have  reposed  beneath  the  groves  of  orange  and  olive, 
have  tasted  the  lemon,  citron,  and  grape,  have  revelled  amidst 
the  luxuries  of  that  delicious  climate,  admired  the  stately  pala- 
ces, hated  the  tyrannous,  and  despised  the  effeminate  vices  of 
their  imperial  masters.  Amidst  the  black  forests  of  his  wintry 
home,  the  northern  barbarian  dreams  of  Italy ;  fires  the  ira- 


312  THE   POWER   AND   TRIUMPE   OF  THE   GOSPEL. 

aginations  of  his  wild  comrades  with  vivid  descriptions  of  its 
glories,  and  promises  an  easy  victory  over  its  degenerate  in- 
habitants. Tribe  after  tribe  sweeps  on,  is  defeated,  driven 
back,  returns  with  more  ferocious  courage  and  reduplicated 
numbers.  Wave  after  wave  is  broken  at  the  base  of  that  de- 
caying colossus,  strong  even  amidst  the  decrepitude  of  age. 
But  the  foundations  of  the  great  deep  are  broken  up,  the 
swelling  inundation  comes  heaving  on.  No  human  power  can 
arrest  its  course.  The  fainting  legions  slowly,  gloomily  recede, 
are  routed,  broken.  The  fierce  barbarians  pass  on,  and  with 
no  glitter  of  gold  or  silver  or  armor,  no  pomp  of  martial  music, 
but  with  loud  shouts  of  contempt  and  indignation,  with  clash 
of  sword  and  shield  and  battle-axe,  sweep  away  all  remains 
of  that  ancient  civilization. 

But  time  would  fail  us  to  pursue  this  strain  of  thought,  and 
tell  of  all  the  successive  triumphs  which  the  Gospel  was  des- 
tined to  win  amongst  the  nations  of  Europe,  thereby  vindicat- 
ing itself  as  the  mighty  power  of  God.  As  it  had  triumphed 
at  first  over  the  paganism  of  Rome,  and  then  withstood  the 
successive  inroads  of  these  barbarians,  gradually  bringing  them 
as  willing  trophies  under  its  all  powerful  sway,  so  has  it  ad- 
vanced from  conquest  unto  conquest  till  the  present  hour. 
From  this  long  digression,  let  us  now  return  to  our  text,  to 
consider  the  feelings  of  the  great  apostle  as,  conscious  of  his 
high  vocation  in  being  called  of  God  to  preach  this  Gospel  to 
the  Gentiles,  he  contemplated  a  visit  to  the  imperial  city, 
and  in  the  opening  chapter  of  this  epistle  to  the  Romans, 
exclaimed  :  "I  am  not  ashamed  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ." 

We  are  so  much  accustomed  to  consider  St.  Paul  as  an 
apostle,  that  we  are  apt  to  forget  that  he  was  likewise  a  man. 
We  follow  him  with  such  intense  interest  through  the  whole 
of  his  bold  and  brilliant  career,  that  his  name  becomes  asso- 
ciated in  our  minds  Avith  all  the  loftiest  attributes  of  our  nature, 
and  we  can  hardly  conceive  of  him  as  at  all  exposed  to  the 
common  weaknesses  and  infirmities  of  the  species.  This  is 
indeed  the  highest  tribute  that  can  be  ofiered  by  mankind — 
the  involuntary  homage  of  the  soul  to  transcendent  worth. 


THE  powp:r  and  triumph  ot  the  gospel.        313 

But  it  may  be  doubted  whether  t])e  briglitness  that  dazzles 
does  not  also  blind  us ;  whether  the  very  excellency  which  we 
admire,  may  not  lead  us  to  underrate  itself.  We  never  think 
of  entering  into  the  details  of  his  character,  of  comparing  St. 
Paul  with  other  men  ;  and  thus  we  lose  the  advantage  of  tlio 
contrast.  We  never  estimate  his  character  by  the  common 
principles  that  regulate  the  conduct  of  mankind,  and  hence  we 
seldom  understand  how  far  he  is  elevated  above  them.  There 
is  no  weakness,  for  instance,  that  is  more  universal  among 
mankind,  than  that  which  is  mentioned  in  the  text ;  and  yet,  so 
far  are  we  from  supposing  th:it  St.  Paul  was  ever  subject  to  its 
influence,  we  are  almost  astonished  that  he  should  think  it 
necessary  formally  to  defend  himself  against  such  an  imputa- 
tion. To  be  ashamed  of  opinions  which  we  have  impartially 
examined  and  honestly  adopted  ;  to  be  ashamed  of  conduct 
which  is  founded  upon  these  principles,  and  is  approved  and 
even  required  by  our  own  judgment  and  conscience,  is  a  we  ik- 
ness  not  confined  to  the  ignorant  and  thoughtless ;  to  stand  up 
boldly  against  the  current  of  popular  sentiment,  and  disregard 
alike  the  sneer  of  the  wise  and  the  hiss  of  the  ignorant ;  to  go 
forth  the  advocate  of  truth  in  a  corrupt  and  degenerate  age, 
and  carry  on  a  fearless  warfare  against  the  opinions  and  preju- 
dices, the  tastes  and  the  vices  of  society,  with  no  object  but  the 
welfare  of  mankind,  and  no  reward  but  the  scorn  and  contempt 
of  those  you  wish  to  benefit,  is  to  exhibit  some  of  the  finest 
characteristics  which  belong  to  our  nature. 

Indeed  we  cannot  conceive  of  a  spectacle  more  sublime  and 
more  aflecting,  than  that  which  is  pre:^ented  by  a  man,  who  is 
endowed  with  all  those  hicjher  (r[{\s  of  the  understanding  and 
the  heart,  which  would  have  gained  the  admiration  and  love  of 
all  around  him,  yet  devoting  all  the  ardor  of  his  feelings,  and 
all  the  strength  of  his  intellect  to  the  simple  work  of  d«..'ing 
good  among  his  fellow-men,  meeting  unmoved  in  this  noble 
work  the  contempt  and  hatred  and  ingratitude  of  the  world, 
standing  erect,  amidst  the  storm  that  beats  upon  him,  alone 
and  self-sustained  by  the  inborn  energies  of  a  manly  sj)irit. 
When,  in  the  course  of  real  history  or  ficutious  narrative,  we 
U 


314         THE   rOWER   AND  TRIUMPH   OF   THE   GOSPEL. 

meet  with  such  a  character  as  this,  we  are  struck  with  a  pleas- 
ing astonishment  and  yield  it  the  ready  homage  of  our  willing 
admiration.  But  in  reading  the  life  of  St.  Paul,  what  in  others 
seems  astonishing,  in  him  appears  perfectly  natural.  To  sup- 
pose that  he  would  act  otherwise  would  violate  all  our  concep- 
tions of  his  character;  and  the  mind  feels  a  painful  incongruity 
between  its  own  ideas  when  we  attempt  to  conceive  of  him  iis 
shrinking  from  danger  or  courting  admiration,  as  palliating 
error  or  concealing  the  truth.  This  is  indeed  the  highest  en- 
comium ever  bestowed  upon  genius  and  virtue,  because  it  is 
the  united  and  unconscious  verdict  of  friends  and  foes,  the  uni- 
versal suffrage  of  the  race.  But  it  may  serve  to  render  more 
distinct,  and  perhaps  to  impress  more  deeply  upon  our  minds, 
a  general  feeling  of  reverence  for  the  apostle's  character,  if 
we  take  a  brief  view  of  those  particular  circumstances,  which 
tried  and  exhibited  this  character,  and  especially  those  to 
which  he  undoubtedly  referred  in  the  text,  and  which  required^ 
in  his  ow^n  view,  the  solemn  affirmation,  "  I  am  not  ashamed 
of  the  Gospel  of  Christ." 

If  Paul  had  deserted  the  Jewish  religion  and  attached  him- 
self to  some  school  of  Grecian  philosophy,  he  might  indeed  have 
been  branded  as  an  apostate  from  the  faith;  but  he  might 
have  consoled  himself  for  the  loss  of  his  old  friends  by  the  in- 
creased respect  of  his  new  companions.  If  he  had  joined  any 
existing  sect  of  the  Jews,  he  w^ould  have  indured  the  hatred 
of  his  opponents ;  but  his  talents  w^ere  an  acquisition  to  be 
sought  by  every  party,  and  would  have  insured  the  applause  of 
his  own.  If  agreeing  with  no  sect  of  Jewish  or  heathen  phi- 
losophers, but  dissenting  from  them  all,  he  had  built  up  some 
splendid  though  unsubstantial  fabric  of  his  own,  the  splendor 
of  his  genius  and  the  attraction  of  his  eloquence  would  soon 
have  placed  him  foremost  among  philosophers,  and  gathered 
around  his  standard  an  admiring  crowd  of  followers.  But  he 
sought  not  the  schools  of  Grecian  or  Jewish  wisdom,  nor  did 
he  choose  for  himself  some  high  path  of  original  or  eccentric 
speculation.  He  came  down  to  the  lowest  walks  of  humble 
life ;  he  was  associated  with  the  most  despised  sect  of  a  despised 


THE   POWER    AND   TRIUMPH  OF  THE   GOSPEL.  315 

people.  The  doctrine  which  he  received  was  simple  though 
sublime,  alike  inimical  to  the  pride  of  philosophy,  the  fierceness 
of  bigotry,  and  the  licentiousness  of  passion,  and  his  teacher 
was  regarded  as  a  peasant  and  a  malefactor,  obscure  in  his 
birlh,  and  covered  with  tenfold  ignominy  by  a  disgraceful 
death.  If  the  religion  which  he  embraced  had  allowed  him  to 
remain  in  retirement,  it  might  not  have  been  so  painful  to  a 
mind  already  wearied  with  noise  and  bustle,  to  seek  a  quiet 
obscurity,  and  indulge  the  pleasing  revery  of  a  happy  immor- 
tality. He  might  then  have  despised  the  world's  opinions,  and 
forgotten  the  contempt  he  did  not  witness.  But  the  command 
of  his  master,  and  the  impetuosity  of  his  own  feelings,  urged 
him  onward  in  his  active  career;  he  met  the  full  torrent  of  the 
world's  bitterest  derision;  he  travelled  from  city  to  city,  from 
country  to  country  ;  and  though  he  preached  with  an  eloquence 
that  was  unrivalled,  and  argued  with  a  closeness  that  was  un- 
ans^verable,  and  labored  with  a  zeal  and  patience  that  were 
almost  su2:)erhuman,  wherever  he  directed  his  course  he  was 
met  with  the  same  salutation ;  and  whether  he  argued  with 
the  Jewish  Rabbis  from  their  own  prophetic  scriptures;  or 
reasoned  with  the  Greek  philosophers  from  the  eternal  princi- 
ples of  nature  and  of  truth ;  or  testified  before  the  Roman 
governor  of  that  wondrous  vision  which  his  own  eyes  had  wit- 
nessed, and  that  wondrous  voice  his  own  ears  had  heard  ;  he 
was  branded  as  a  madman,  a  blasphemer,  and  a  babbler. 

Now  we  say  not  that  the  apostle  was  insensible  to  this  accu- 
mulated load  of  derision  and  reproach,  but  we  say  that  if  he 
felt  it  as  a  man,  he  disregarded  it  as  an  apostle.  Never  did  it 
force  from  him  one  word  of  despondency  or  irritation.  The 
reproach  of  Felix,  though  it  drew  forth  one  of  the  most  striking 
appeals  in  the  whole  history  of  eloquence,  brought  down  on  his 
own  head  no  indignant  rebuke.  He  once  mentions,  indeed,  the 
ridicule  of  his  enemies  as  "  cruel  mockings ;"  but  at  all  times, 
and  on  all  occasions,  both  by  his  actions  and  his  language,  he 
proved  that  he  was  not  ashamed  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  It 
would  have  been  indeed  an  interesting  spectacle  to  see  this 
obscure  defender  of  an  outcast  sect,  as  he  stood  upon  the  Areop- 


316  THE  POWER  AND   TRIUMPH   OF  THE   GOSPEL. 

agus,  and  propounded  to  the  listening  crovrd  of  philosophers 
and  common  people  the  strange  but  sublime  doctrine  of  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead;  to  have  heard  him  reason  against 
the  polytheism  and  idolatry  of  a  polished  city,  and  refute  the 
idle  speculations  of  a  vain  philosophy ;  and  when  ridicule  had 
taken  the  place  of  argument,  and  they  who  could  not  reason 
had  united  to  laugh,  who  cannot  sympathize  with  the  noble 
sentiments  that  would  animate  the  speaker  as  he  cast  his  eye 
around  upon  the  assembled  crowd,  and  pitying  alike  the  igno- 
rance of  the  multitude,  and  the  pride  of  the  philosophers — 
his  bosom  expanded  by  his  own  high  truths,  and  his  eye 
kindled  up  with  the  joyful  triumph  they  inspired — he  would 
exclaim  in  the  language  of  the  text,  *'  I  am  not  ashamed  of  the 
Gospel  of  Christ." 

It  has  sometimes  been  the  privilege  of  genius,  when  strug- 
gling with  adversity,  when  attacked  by  the  venom  of  malice, 
or  annoyed  by  the  buzzings  of  folly,  to  look  away  through  the 
clouds  that  overcast  its  prospects,  and  see  in  the  admiration  of 
a  coming  age  a  rich  recompense  for  the  neglect  of  its  own. 
High  and  thrilling,  no  doubt,  is  the  ecstasy  that,  in  a  moment 
such  as  this,  swells  the  bosom  of  the  despised  and  persecuted 
man.  But,  oh !  when  the  man  was  lost  in  the  prophet,  and  the 
eye  of  genius  was  lighted  up  with  the  fire  of  inspiration,  to 
look  down  through  the  long  lapse  of  succeeding  ages,  how 
rapturous  must  have  been  the  high  emotions  of  the  apostle  as 
it  glanced  rapidly  on  from  century  to  century,  and  rested  at 
last  upon  the  bright  scenes  of  millennial  glory.  Surely  if  there 
were  no  reward  in  heaven  for  their  labors  upon  earth,  no  tri- 
umph there  for  those  who  have  fought  and  conquered  here,  no 
crown  to  be  placed  upon  the  brow  which  throbbed  so  anxiously 
below,  even  then,  there  would  be  enough,  in  a  vision  such  as 
this,  to  excite  far  higher  pleasures  than  this  world  has  ever  yet 
bestowe<l.  But  when  to  this  splendid  vision  of  years  to  come 
is  added  the  sure  expectntion  of  a  heavenly  inheritance,  we 
need  not  be  astonished  that  the  apostle  should  declare,  "I  am 
not  ashamed  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ." 

The  apostle  may    be  considered   as   asserting   the   natural 


THE  POWER  AND   TRIUMPH   OF   THE    GOSPEL.  317 

power  or  tendency  of  the  Gospel  as  a  system  of  truth  to  influ- 
ence and  save  man ;  or  as  referring  more  directly  to  that 
divine  efficiency  which  attended  it,  in  converting  and  saving 
both  individuals,  and  communities,  and  the  whole  world.  In 
either  case  it  was  distinguished  from  the  lieathen  philosophy 
by  the  fact  that  the  latter  was  powerless  in  operating  on  man. 
Philosophy  had  done  all  it  could  ;  it  had  never  exerted  any 
healthful,  controlling  influence  on  human  society,  and  on  the 
great  subject  of  salvation  its  inquiries  had  failed  always  and 
utterly.  Of  late  they  had  been  suspended  in  universal  scepti- 
cism. They  left  all  human  obhgations  in  doubt,  and  without 
any  certain  sanction.  They  left  men*s  hearts  and  lives  impure 
and  immoral,  and  without  a  power  to  purify  or  heal.  A 
divine  revelation  was  therefore  needed.  The  Gospel  proved 
itself  to  be  such  a  revelation  by  the  certainty  of  its  teachings, 
the  purity  of  its  principles,  and  the  efficacy  of  its  sanctions — ■ 
the  power  of  God  unto  salvation  to  every  one  that  believeth. 


XVI. 

THE  REMISSION"  OF  SIXS  THROUGH  FAITH  IN"  CHPwIST. 


Acts  x,  43. — "  To  him  give  all  the  prophets  witness,  that  through  his  name 
whosoever  belie veth  in  him  shall  receive  remission  of  sins." 


The  memory  of  that  state  of  holiness  and  peace  in  which 
man  lived  before  the  fall  is  almost  universally  diffused  among 
the  nations  of  the  earth.  It  is  handed  down  in  their  traditions, 
it  is  interwoven  with  their  religion,  it  is  celebrated  in  the 
highest  strains  of  poetry  by  their  most  gifted  bards.  And 
the  same  traditions  which  have  preserved  the  sad  recollection 
of  the  fall,  have  likewise  perj^etuated  the  joyful  expectations 
of  a  mighty  deliverer  to  come,  who  should  more  than  repair  the 
ruins  of  the  fall,  who  should  restore  universal  holiness  and 
piety  and  love  on  earth ;  and  the  mild  glories  of  whose  ap- 
proaching reign  should  only  shine  witli  a  lovelier  radiance  on 
account  of  the  deep  gloom  which  should  precede  his  appear- 
ance. Thus  the  Hindoos  still  look  forward  to  the  appearance 
of  their  god  Vishnu,  who  is  to  be  manifested  in  the  tiesh,  to 
overthrow  oppression,  and  establish  virtue  and  happiness  on 
earth.  And  all  who  are  acquainted  with  the  ancient  classics, 
will  remember  that  one  of  the  greatest  Latin  poets  predicts  the 
appearance  of  the  great  deliverer,  this  mighty  king,  even  in 
his  own  day,  and  exhausts  all  the  imagery  of  his  fertile  mind 
to  exalt  to  the  utmost  our  conceptions  of  the  glories  of  his 
reign  and  the  amazing  benefits  he  should  bestow  upon  man- 
kind. In  different  nations  this  expectation  varied  undoubt- 
edly in  accuracy  and  distinctness,  but  in  some  it  pointed  out 
with  amazing  accuracy  not  only  the  character  of  this  deliverer 
and  the  benefits  of  his  government,  but  the  precise  time  at 


REMISSION   OF   SINS  THROUGH   FAITfl   IN"  CriRTST.       319 

-vvliioli  he  sliould  appear.  And  about  tlie  time  of  our  Saviour's 
birtli  there  existed  tliroughout  tlie  worhl  an  universal  expecta- 
tion of  the  great  deliverer,  the  foretold  in  pro])hecy,  the  de- 
sire of  all  nations.  That  this  expectation  was  universal  among 
the  Jews  at  the  time  of  our  Saviour's  birth  is  evident,  not 
only  from  the  facts  recorded  in  the  evangelists,  but  from  the 
record  of  their  own  writers,  and  the  testimon}-  of  heathen 
historians. 

The  appearance  of  John  the  Baptist,  the  crowds  that 
thronged  to  hear  his  instructions,  the  trembling  anxiety 
of  Herod  when  informed  of  the  Redeemer's  birth,  the  numer- 
ous pretenders  who  arose  about  that  period,  and  promised 
deliverance  to  the  misguided  Israelites,  the  blind  fanaticism 
with  which  they  gathered  around  these  false  Messiahs,  and 
still  trusted  for  deliverance,  till  hewn  down  by  the  Roman 
cohorts — all  prove  that  the  expectation  of  the  Jewish  nation 
was  wound  up  to  its  highest  pitch,  and  that  the  appearance  of 
their  predicted  Messiah  was  daily  awaited  by  the  confiding 
nation.  But  all  possibility  of  doubt  is  removed  by  the  ex- 
press assertion  of  Josephus,  who  informs  us,  that  their  restless 
impatience  under  the  Roman  yoke,  and  their  continual  efforts 
to  cast  it  off,  arose  from  their  expectation  of  the  king  who 
was  to  arise  in  Judea  and  extend  his  dominion  over  the  world. 
Nor  was  this  opinion  confined  to  the  Jewish  people.  We  are 
informed  by  Suetonius,  the  Roman  historian,  that  "  there  had 
been  for  a  long  time  all  over  the  East,  a  constant  persuasion, 
that  at  that  time,  some  one  who  should  come  out  of  Judea 
should  obtain  universal  dominion."  Nor  was  this  expectation 
confined  to  the  people  of  the  East,  but  had  extended  to  Rome, 
and  taken  strong  hold,  at  a  still  earlier  period,  even  on  the 
masters  of  the  world.  Hence,  Tacitus  applies  the  prophecy  to 
his  favorite  Vespasian,  and  this  deluded  prince,  even  pretended 
to  work  miracles  at  Alexandria,  and  long  before  Mark  An- 
tony had  applied  the  sauic  prophecy  to  Julius  Caesar,  and 
urged  it  as  a  reason  why  he  should  be  crowned  sovereign  of 
the  Roman  empire.  He  appealed  to  the  Sibylline  oracles  at 
Rome,  which  were   doubtless  the  fragments  of  traditionally 


320      REMISSION    OF   Sl^TS  THROUGH  FAITH   IN   CHRIST. 

prophecies  scattered  among  the  heathen,  and  the  answer  which 
was  given  by  Csesar  on  the  same  occasion,  deserves  to  be  re- 
membered. He  opposed  the  coronation  of  Caesar,  on  the 
gronnd  that  the  prophecies  which  foretold  this  mighty 
king,  likewise  foretold  that  he  should  destroy  the  heathen  re- 
ligion, and  overthrow  their  idols.  The  Roman  poet  to  whom 
I  just  alluded,  and  who  Avrote  in  the  succeeding  age,  appeals 
to  the  same  traditionary  prophecies  collected  and  recorded  at 
Rome,  and  describes  the  character  of  the  predicted  king,  and 
the  happy  influence  of  his  wise  administration,  in  language 
which  seems  to  coincide  almost  word  for  word  with  a  part  of 
the  eighth  chapter  of  Isaiah. 

We  have,  then,  the  expectation  of  a  great  deliverer  difl'used, 
like  the  tradition  of  tlie  flood  and  the  practice  of  sacrifice, 
throughout  all  nations,  varying  in  distinctness  in  different 
countries,  but  most  frequent  in  the  nations  least  removed 
from  the  original  birthplace  of  the  human  race.  We  find 
this  expectation  assuming  a  definite  form,  and  embodied  in 
written  documents,  preserved  by  a  people  who  bought  them 
originally  at  a  high  price,  treated  them  with  the  greatest 
I'everence,  and,  when  lost  by  fire,  supplied  the  loss  at  great 
trouble  and  expense.  We  find  them  quoted  by  their  politi- 
cians ;  appealed  to  by  their  poets  ;  and  above  all,  these  singular 
prophecies,  preserved  by  a  heathen  and  a  democratic  nation, 
predict  the  coming  of  a  mighty  king,  the  overthrow  of  idolatry, 
and  the  establishment  of  a  universal  kingdom  of  piety  and 
peace. 

Xow  this  universality  of  belief  cannot  certainly  be  cause- 
less ;  this  amazing  agreement  between  pretended  prophecies, 
preserved  by  Jews  and  heathen,  demands  some  satisfactory 
explanation.  The  only  explanation  of  these  extraordinary 
facts  is  found  in  the  assertion  of  the  text,  that  "  all  the  pro- 
phets from  the  foundation  of  the  world  have  testified  of 
Christ."  Prophecy  was  not  confined  to  the  Jewish  church,  it 
existed  before  it,  and  beyond  it.  Enoch,  the  seventh  from 
Adam,  prophesied  about  the  latter  days.  Balaam's  prophecy 
of  Christ  may  vie  in  sublimity  and  clearness  with  the  loftiest 


REMISSION  OF  SINS   THROUGH   FAITH  IN   CHRIST.      321 

of  the  Hebrews/;  and  Job,  tlie  afflicted  servant  of  God,  exer- 
cised a  calm  and  delightful  confidence  in  his  Redeemer,  and 
foretold  that  in  the  latter  days  he  should  stand  upon  the  earth. 
When  man  had  fallen  from  his  obedience,  he  was  not  wholly 
abandoned  by  his  God,  nor  must  we  suppose  that  the  light  of 
divine  truth  was  eclipsed  at  once  amongst  the  nations.  It 
departed  gradually  and  slowly,  and  its  last  setting  rays  would 
still  beam  upon  some  man  of  God,  exalted  by  pure  and  ardent 
piety  above  the  level  of  the  world  around  him.  Such  a  man 
was  Job,  such  was  Melchisedec,  and  such  perhaps  were  many 
others,  whose  record  is  with  God,  and  whose  inspired  predic- 
tions, reverenced  long  after  their  death,  may  have  been  thus 
providentially  collected,  to  testify  collaterally  to  the  Messiah 
of  the  Jews.  But  when  the  world  was  fast  sinking  into 
idolatry,  and  scarcely  a  remnant  now  existed  of  the  j)rimitive 
theology,  God  chose  the  family  of  Abraham  to  perpetuate 
the  knowledge  of  himself,  and  by  a  supernatural  providence 
preserved  them  from  idolatry,  and  maintained  the  expecta- 
tion of  the  Messiah  who  was  to  come. 

The  whole  Jewish  economy  was  formed  with  direct  reference 
to  a  better  dispensation.  Every  part  directed  to  the  Saviour. 
Its  sacrifices,  its  ablutions,  its  temple,  its  services  and  priests 
were  shadows  of  which  he  was  the  substance.  Their  prophecy 
especially  was  full  of  Christ.  The  testimony  of  Jesus,  said 
St.  John,  is  the  spirit  of  prophecy.  Its  w^hole  spirit  and  de- 
sign is  to  testify  of  Christ.  Xor  is  any  prophecy  of  private 
interpretation  to  be  interpreted  alone,  but  in  connection  with 
others.  For  prophecy  is  a  great  connected  system,  part  of 
the  great  plan  of  God,  for  gradually  developing  divine  truth 
to  men,  commencing  at  the  creation,  and  grasping  in  its 
wide  embrace  the  interests  of  the  church  down  to  the  end  of 
time.  Hence  its  earlier  exliibitions  are  rather  liints  than  de- 
velopments, intended  rather  to  excite  and  preserve  hope,  than 
to  gratify  curiosity.  As  the  fulness  of  time  approached,  its 
revelations  became  clearer  and  clearer,  resembling  the  progi-ess 
of  the  sun,  as  he  first  tinges  faintly  the  east,  then  brightens 
into  day,  then  rises  above  the  horizon,  and  rejoices  like  a  strong 
u* 


322      REMISSION   OF   SmS  THROUGH   FAITH  IX   CHRIST. 

man  to  run  his  race  of  light  and  glory  through  the  sky.  In 
the  moment  of  deepest  despondency,  the  promise  was  obscurely 
given,  "  The  seed  of  the  woman  shall  bruise  the  serpent's  head," 
and  Eve  expressed  at  once  her  gratitude  and  her  faith,  Avhen 
she  exclaimed,  on  the  birth  of  her  son,  "  I  have  gotten  a  man 
from  the  Lord." 

It  was  by  faith  in  this  great  deliverer,  that  Abel  offered  a 
better  sacrifice  than  Cain  ;  and  the  pious  Lamech,  worn  out  with 
toils  and  griefs,  probably  referred  to  this  hope,  when  he  called 
his  son  Noah,  tliat  is  Repose,  and  said,  "  This  shall  console  us 
from  our  toils,  and  from  the  pain  of  our  labors  from  the  ground 
which  Jehovah  hath  cursed."  Abraham  saw  his  day  afar  off, 
and  rejoiced,  and  well  he  might  rejoice,  when  the  promise 
which  was  first  given  indefinitely  to  Eve,  was  confined  to  his 
own  family,  and  it  was  said  by  the  mouth  of  the  Lord,  "  and 
in  thy  seed  shall  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  be  blessed."  The 
prediction  became  still  more  distinct  as  time  rolled  on,  and  the 
expiring  Jacob  said  in  the  triumph  of  his  soul,  "  The  sceptre 
shall  not  depart  from  Judah,  nor  a  lawgiyer  from  between  his 
feet " — or  of  his  descendants — "  till  Shiloh  come,  and  to  him 
shall  the  gathering  ol  the  people  be."  The  prophecy  which 
had  thus  been  gradually  narrowed  down,  from  the  promise  to 
mankind,  to  the  family  of  Jacob  and  tribe  of  Judah,  became 
still  more  definite,  and  the  promise  was  made  to  the  family  of 
David,  of  a  descendant  whose  kingdom  should  be  without  an 
end  upon  the  throne  of  his  father  David.  The  place  of  his 
birth  was  then  identified,  and  Bethlehem,  the  city  of  David,  was 
pointed  out  as  the  spot  which  should  be  honored  by  his  first 
appearance.  And  that  no  possibility  of  doubt  might  ever  attach 
to  a  matter  of  such  vast  importance,  the  very  time  of  his  birth 
was  minutely  specified,  the  period  of  his  death,  and  the  pun- 
ishment which  should  fiiU  upon  the  guilty  city  which  rejected 
him. 

In  less  than  four  hundred  and  ninety  years  from  the  com- 
mand to  rebuild  the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  by  Artaxerxes  Longi- 
mauus,  the  Messiah  should  appear,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  last 
week  or  last  seven  years  of  that  period,  he  should  be  cut  off, 


REMISSION   OF  SINS  THROUGH  FAITH   I>^    CHRIST.      323 

but  not  for  himself,  and  suddenly  should  come  upon  the  city 
the  abomination  which  should  make  it  desolate.  So  remark- 
ably has  this  prediction  been  fulfilled,  that  infidelity  has  mis- 
taken prophecy  for  history,  and  charged  upon  the  Jews  the 
forgery  of  a  prophecy  which  condemns  themselves.  Again,  it 
was  foretold  by  Malachi,  that  the  messenger  of  the  covenant, 
as  the  Messiah  was  sometimes  called,  should  appear  during  the 
continuance  of  the  second  temple,  and  by  Haggai,  that  ^'  the 
desire  of  all  nations  should  come  and  fill  tluit  house  with  glory." 
"We  all  remember  how  distinctly  the  circumstances  of  his  life 
are  foretold  by  Isaiah, — '*  He  should  be  a  man  of  sorrows  and 
acquainted  with  grief," — and  those  of  his  death, — "They 
parted  my  garments  among  them,  and  cnst  lots  upon  my  ves- 
ture,"— and  again,  "  They  appointed  for  him  with  the  wicked 
his  grave,  but  he  was  with  a  rich  man  after  his  death,"  and 
this,  although  he  was  the  king  of  the  Jews,  the  mighty  God, 
the  Prince  of  Peace. 

But  not  only  was  the  Messiah  to  appear  in  the  fulness  of 
time  ;  he  was  likew^ise  to  introduce  a  new  dispensation.  The 
enlightened  Jews  never  considered  their  dispensation  as  final, 
They  were  indeed  the  people  of  God,  chosen  from  the  midst  of 
the  nations  around  them,  not  for  any  merit  of  their  own,  but 
for  the  purpose  of  promoting  God's  own  high  designs,  for  per- 
petuating the  knowledge  of  the  only  true  God,  and  the  expec- 
tation of  the  deliverer,  w^ho  was  in  the  fullness  of  time  to  come. 
Every  part  of  their  expensive  and  laborious  ritual  was  designed 
to  answer  one  of  these  purposes,  to  separate  them  from  the 
heathen  around,  or  to  typify  by  their  numerous  sacrifices  the 
coming  of  that  great  sacrifice  who  was  to  make  an  end  of 
transgression,  and  bring  in  an  everlasting  righteousness. 

But  it  was  never  the  intention  of  the  great  Creator  to  con- 
fine to  them  alone  the  benefits  of  divine  truth,  or  to  perpetuate 
a  system  which,  from  its  very  nature,  was  confined  within  the 
narrow  limits  of  a  single  country.  The  first  j^romise  which  was 
made  of  a  Messiah,  was  made  to  Adam,  as  the  father  of  man- 
kind, and  this  promise  is  interpreted  by  the  Jew^ish  Rabbins  f>f 
their  Messiah.     Moses  in  predicting  the  future  fortunes  of  the 


324  ,,  REMISSION   OF   SINS   THROUGH   FAITH  IN   CHRIST. 

nation,  distinctly  foretold  the  coming  of  another  prophet,  like 
himself,  the  author  of  a  new  laAV,  the  mediator  of  a  new  cove- 
nant, the  leader  of  a  new  people.  The  prophets  spoke  in  lan- 
guage still  more  decisive  of  this  coming  dispensation.  The 
covenant  which  was  made  when  they  came  out  of  Egypt,  was 
to  be  succeeded  by  a  new  and  different  covenant.  That  re- 
quired external  service ;  this,  the  homage  of  the  heart.  The 
law  of  that  covenant  was  written  on  tables  of  stone ;  this,  in 
the  hearts  of  the  people.  Under  that  dispensation  the  blood 
of  bulls  and  goats  could  only  make  atonement  for  external 
defilement  and  involuntary  sins ;  but  under  this  all  sin  was  to 
be  forgiven  through  the  efficacy  of  some  mightier  intercession. 
"Behold,"  says  the  prophet  Jeremiah,  xxxi.  31,  "behold,  the 
days  come,  saith  the  Lord,  that  I  will  make  a  new  covenant 
with  the  house  of  Israel,  and  Avith  the  house  of  Judah  :  not 
according  to  the  covenant  that  I  made  Avith  their  fathers  in 
tlie  day  that  I  took  them  by  the  hand  to  bring  them  out  of  the 
land  of  Egypt ;"  but  a  different  one,  and  how  different !  "  But 
this  shall  be  the  covenant  that  I  will  make  with  the  house  of 
Israel:  After  those  days,  saith  the  Lord,  I  will  put  my  law  in 
their  iuAvard  parts,  and  Avrite  it  in  their  hearts,  and  I  will  be 
their  God,  and  they  shall  be  my  people ;  for  I  will  forgive  their 
iniquity,  and  I  will  remember  their  sin  no  more." 

The  only  mode  of  remission  of  sin  known  to  the  law  was 
through  the  sacrifices  of  bulls  and  goats  ;  but  in  the  Psalms  we 
have  clear  intimations  that  tliis  mode  was  in  itself  of  no  value, 
and  was  ultimately  to  give  Avay  to  anotlier  and  better  one,  in 
which  the  external  purification  of  the  flesh,  was  to  be  super- 
seded by  the  purification  of  the  heart,  and  the  exercise  of  in- 
ward repentance  and  purity  of  heart.  In  the  fifty-first  Psalm, 
where  David  is  confessing  his  sins  before  God,  he  says  :  "  Thou 
desirest  not  sacrifice,  else  would  I  give  it ;  thou  delightest  not 
in  burnt  offei'ings.  The  sacrifices  of  God  are  a  broken  spirit ; 
a  broken  and  a  contrite  heart,  O  God,  thou  wilt  not  despise." 
There  were  no  sacrifices  in  the  law  which  could  atone  for  the 
crimes  of  murder  and  adultery  of  wliich  David  had  been  guilty, 
and  yet  he  hopes  for  forgiveness ;  and  in  the  fortieth  Psalm, 


REMISSION   OF  SINS   TIIEOUGH  FAITH   IN   CHRIST.      325 

we  find  the  ground  of  his  confidence  was  in  a  different  sacrifice 
under  a  coming  dispensation.  "  Sacrifice  and  offering,"  says 
the  Psalmist,  "  thou  didst  not  desire ;  burnt  offering  and  sin 
offering  hast  thou  not  required.  Then  said  I,"  speaking  in  the 
language  of  the  expected  Messiah,  "then  said  I,Lo,  I  come  ; 
in  the  volume  of  the  book  it  is  written  of  me,  I  delight  to  do 
thy  will  O  my  God."  This  Avill  of  God  which  the  Messiah 
was  to  do,  and  which  Avas  thus  to  supersede  the  sacrifices  of  the 
law,  was  done  and  suffered  by  the  Divine  Redeemer  when  he 
drank  the  cup  his  Father  gave  him,  and  said,  "not  my  will, 
but  thine  be  done."  The  nature  of  this  substitution  is  most 
fully  expressed  by  the  prophet  Daniel,  in  the  ninth  chapter, 
where  we  are  told  that  the  Messiah  should  come  at  the  end  of 
four  hundred  and  ninety  years  after  the  rebuilding  of  the  tem- 
ple ;  that  he  should  cause  the  sacrifice  and  oblation  to  cease — 
the  sacrifices  of  the  Jewish  law — but  should  at  the  same  time 
finish  transgression,  make  an  end  of  sins,  make  a  reconciliation 
for  iniquity,  and  bring  an  everlasting  righteousness. 

All  this  was  to  take  place  in  that  kingdom,  which  the  God 
of  heaven  was  to  set  up  according  to  the  predictions  of  Daniel, 
and  of  course  under  a  different  dispensation  from  the  Jewish) 
w^hich  was  not  to  be  set  up,  but  already  existed.  In  the  fifty- 
third  of  Isaiah,  we  are  told  expressly  how  it  is  that  remission 
of  sins  and  justification  was  to  be  obtained  under  this  new  dis- 
pensation, of  which  the  Messiah  was  the  head  and  author.  By 
the  knowledge  of  himself  shall  my  righteous  servant  justify 
many,  for  he  shall  bear  their  iniquities.  Observe  how  plainly 
it  is  indicated  that  the  sacrifices  and  offerings  of  the  law  were 
to  be  dispensed  with.  Under  the  old  dispensation  when  the 
sinner  brought  a  sin-ofi*ering  to  the  altar,  he  laid  his  hand  on 
the  head  of  the  victim,  confessed  his  sins,  and  the  punishment 
of  sins  was  transferred  to  the  victim  before  him.  The  sinner 
was  relieved  from  the  punishment,  and  the  victim  was  said  to 
bear  it  in  his  stead ;  and  thus  the  prophet  speaks  of  another 
sacrifice,  better  than  bulls  and  goats,  who  was  to  bear  our  in- 
iquities in  his  own  body  on  the  cross.  But  not  only  was  the 
dispensation  to  be  changed,  but  its  ministers  too.     "I  have 


326      E EMISSION   OF   SINS   THROUGH  FAITH   IN   CHRIST. 

sworn  by  myself,  thon  art  a  priest  forever  after  the  order  of 
Melchisedec."  Here  we  do  not  pause  to  ask  who  was  Melchis- 
edec,  nor  is  it  important  to  inquire.  Here  is  a  new  priest  of 
a  new  order,  not  of  the  family  of  Aaron,  nor  of  the  tribe  of 
Levi,  for  the  Messiah  was  to  spring  from  Judah,  of  an  order 
not  inferior  to  that  of  Levi,  but  superior,  since  Levi  paid  tithes 
to  this  order  in  the  loins  of  Abraham  ;  not  temporary  like  that 
of  Levi,  which  was  to  pass  away  after  it  had  answered  its  j^ur- 
pose,  but  a  priest  /ore  ve)\  after  the  order  of  Melchisedec. 

Not  only  was  the  dispensation  and  its  ministers  changed, 
but  the  offerings  too,  for  every  priest  must  have  somewhat  to 
offer,  and  we  are  told  by  the  prophet  Daniel,  "  That  the  Mes- 
siah shall  be  cut  off,  but  not  for  himself;"  and  by  the  prophet 
Isaiah,  that  "He  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions,  and 
bruised  for  our  iniquities,  the  chastisement  of  our  peace  was 
upon  him,  and  by  his  stripes  we  are  healed;  that  we  all  like 
sheep  have  gone  astray,  and  the  Lord  hath  laid  on  him  the 
iniquity  of  us  all."  But  further,  the  dispensation  introduced 
by  the  Messiah  was  to  extend  beyond  the  land  and  people  of 
the  Jews,  and  embrace  in  its  wide  extent  the  whole  race  of 
man. 

Thus,  in  the  2d  Psalm  it  is  said,  "  Ask  of  me  and  I  will  give 
the  heathen  for  thine  inheritance,  and  the  uttermost  parts  of 
the  earth  for  thy  possession."  Again,  Isaiah,  xlix.  6,  it  is  said 
of  the  Messiah,  "  I  will  also  give  thee  for  a  light  to  the  Gentiles, 
that  thou  mayest  bt  my  salvation  unto  the  end  of  the  earth." 
Again,  Ix.  1,  "And  the  Gentiles  shall  come  to  thy  light,  and 
kings  to  the  brightness  of  thy  rising."  And  again,  in  the  Ixv.  1, 
"I  am  sought  of  them  that  asked  not  for  me;  I  am  found  of 
them  that  sought  me  not.  I  said.  Behold  me,  behold  me,  unto 
a  nation  that  was  not  called  by  my  name."  The  Jews  were 
called  by  the  name  of  Jehovah,  the  people  of  the  Lord ;  the 
people  to  whom  these  invitations  were  to  be  made,  were  of 
course  only  Gentiles.  But  it  is  unnecessary  to  appeal  to  par- 
ticular texts,  to  establish  a  position  which  is  demonstrated  by 
the  whole  tenor  of  Jewish  Scriptures.  All  their  ideas  of  the 
Messiah's  reign  supposed  its  universality.     It  was  this  which 


REMISSION   OF   SINS   THROUGH   FAITH   IN   CHRIST.      327 

excited  their  higliest  feelings,  and  aroused  their  loftiest  strains 
of  poetry.  They  speak  of  a  time,  when  the  mountain  of  the 
Lord's  house  shall  be  exalted  above  the  top  of  the  mountains, 
and  all  nations  should  flow  into  it.  When  in  every  place  pure 
incense  shall  be  ottered,  and  God  will  take  priests  out  of  all 
nations ;  when  there  shall  be  an  altar  to  the  Lord  in  Egypt, 
and  the  ark  of  the  former  covenant  shall  no  more  be  remem- 
bered nor  visited.  Their  hearts  seem  to  swell  with  the  mighty 
tlieme,  and  they  break  forth  into  strains  of  triumphant  joy  in 
contemplation.  Isaiah,  Ix.  1,  3,  "  Arise,  shine,  for  thy  light 
is  come,  and  the  glory  of  the  Lord  is  risen  upon  thee.  The 
Gentiles  shall  come  to  thy  light,  and  kings  to  the  brightness 
of  thy  rising."  And  again,  "the  Gentiles  shall  see  thy  light, 
and  all  kings  thy  glory." 

Nor  is  the  incredulity  of  the  Jews  any  objection  to  the 
truth  of  the  text,  for  this  likewise  was  foretold  by  their  pro- 
phets. He  was  to  be  a  stone  of  stumbling  and  rock  of  ottence 
to  both  the  houses  of  Israel ;  a  gin  and  a  snare  to  the  inhabit- 
ants of  Jerusalem.  He  was  to  be  as  a  root  out  of  dry 
ground,  without  form  or  comeliness;  they  were  to  turn  away 
their  faces  in  contempt  or  abhorrence  from  him,  and  should 
esteem  him  as  smitten  of  God,  and  afflicted,  as  visited  by 
God's  righteous  judgments  for  his  guilt.  (In  thy  seed  shall 
the  nations  of  the  earth  be  blessed,  we  have  seen  how.) 

We  have  thus  seen  a  whole  series  of  prophecies  pointing 
through  many  centuries  to  an  individual,  who  was  to  come  at 
an  appointed  period  490  years  from  an  event  well  known  in 
history,  and  easily  calculated ;  a  person  who  was  to  bear  the 
most  contradictory  ottices,  and  reconcile  in  his  own  person  the 
most  irreconcilable  predictions ;  who  was  to  be  a  priest  and  a 
victim,  a  conqueror  and  a  suflerer,  a  king  and  a  servant ;  who 
should  be  a  despised  and  condemned  malefactor,  and  yet 
should  extend  his  dominion  beyond  the  nation  which  perse- 
cuted him,  till  it  encompassed  the  world ;  and  we  see  at  the 
very  time  appointed  an  individual  appearing  who  reconciled 
in  his  own  person  all  these  apparent  contradictions,  and  real 
difticulties,  in  the  most  natural  way.     We  have  a  system  com- 


328      EEMISSION   OF  SINS  THROUGH   FAITH   IX   CHRIST. 

mencing  earlier  than  all  profane  history,  avowedly  looking 
forward  to,  and  predicting  the  appearance  of,  this  extraor- 
dinary individual,  who  was  to  establish  a  new  dispensation 
founded  on,  yet  different  from  it,  the  same  in  principle  yet 
more  fully  developed,  predicting  its  reception  by  the  Gentiles, 
and  rejection  by  the  Jews,  and  immediately  on  his  appearance 
we  find  the  Jewish  temple  destroyed,  the  people  scattered, 
their  ceremonies  forcibly  discontinued,  the  very  distinction  of 
their  tribes  lost;  and  besides  all  this,  it  is  now  1800  years 
since  these  things  happened.  Are  all  these  strange  coinci- 
dences the  result  of  chance  ?  Is  this  M'orld  of  evidence  built 
up  by  the  fortuitous  concourse  of  floating  atoms  ?  If,  then,  the 
truth  which  is  confirmed  by  the  miracles  and  resurrection  of 
the  Saviour,  be  likewise  established  by  the  united  testimony 
of  the  prophets,  we  see  how  firm  is  the  ground  of  our  confi- 
dence, and  how  boldly  we  may  come  to  a  throne  of  Divine 
grace,  seeking  the  remission  of  our  sins  through  faith  in  his 
name. 

I.  Let  us  learn  from  this  subject  first,  the  sovereignty  of 
God  in  bestowing  his  benefits  on  man.  By  the  sovereignty 
of  God  we  do  not  mean  that  blind  and  arbitrary  wilfulness, 
which  acts  without  a  motive  or  principle  of  action.  There  is 
no  such  sovereignty  with  God,  for  although  all  his  works  are 
known  unto  him  from  the  foundation  of  the  world,  yet  are 
they  all  done  in  perfect  wisdom.  But  we  mean  that  wise  and 
holy  government  of  God  over  all  creatures  and  all  events, 
which  directs  all,  guides  all,  controls  all,  according  to  the 
counsel  of  his  own  will,  and  that  will  regulated  by  reasons 
and  principles  which  are  necessarily  inscrutable  to  man,  em- 
bracing as  they  do  all  worlds,  and  reaching  forward  into 
eternity.  Infidels  have  objected  to  the  Jewish  Scriptures,  be- 
cause they  represent  the  Father  of  all  as  bestowing  peculiar 
benefits  on  a  single  people,  thus  transferring  to  the  Creator 
our  limited  and  contracted  views,  and  bringing  the  odious  im- 
putation of  partiality  against  his  wise  administration.  To 
this  it  might  be  suflScient  to  reply,  that  possibly  the  governor 
of  the  universe  may  observe  relations  a:id  act  on  principles 


REMISSION   OF  SINS  THROUGH   FAITH   IN   CHRIST.      329 

Avhich  ave  not  obvious  to  our  feeble  understanding,  and  that 
liis  wisdom  may  see  Aveiglity  reasons  for  bestowing  blessings 
on  one  nation,  Avliich  he  withholds  with  perfect  propriety  from 
another.  But  we  are  not  left  to  conjecture  on  such  a  subject. 
All  experience  and  all  history  prove  that  it  not  only  may  be, 
but  actually  is  the  mode  of  God's  administration  on  earth. 
How  different  are  the  benefits  bestowed  upon  one  nation  from 
tljose  conferred  upon  another.  One  enjoys  the  light  of  science, 
tlie  blessings  of  liberty,  all  the  advantages  of  civilization, 
Avhile  a  fertile  soil  diffuses  plenty  over  the  land,  and  a  genial 
atmosphere  gives  health  to  enjoy  it,  filling  men's  hearts  with 
joy  and  gladness.  To  another  all  tliese  circumstances  are  re- 
versed. Despotic  power,  with  ruthless  hand,  has  borne  down 
the  first  aspirations  after  freedom,  and  crushed  beneath  its 
iron  tread  the  most  cherished  hopes  of  future  improvement. 
A  gloomy  superstition  has  overshadowed  the  people,  or  a 
stupid  ignorance ;  contented,  motionless,  stagnant,  the  inherit- 
ance of  ages  descends  from  father  to  son  in  unchangeable  suc- 
cession. Pestilence  breathes  in  the  air,  glows  in  the  sun,  radi- 
ates fi-om  the  earth  ;  or  a  land  cursed  of  God  with  barrenness, 
yields  scanty  sustenance  to  a  few  scattered  and  miserable  in- 
liabitants.  Such  is  the  diversity  of  natural  blessings  which 
God  in  his  providence  bestows  upon  man,  and  yet  we  arraign 
not  his  wisdom  or  his  goodness ;  how  then  shall  we  object  to 
a  similar  diversity  in  the  distribution  of  his  spiritual  blessings  ? 
If  one  nation  has  been  exalted  over  another  in  freedom,  in 
civilization,  in  knowledge,  in  social  comfort,  in  all  that  gives 
dignity  or  happiness  to  man,  wdiy  may  not  another  enjoy 
similar  exaltations  in  all  those  religious  privileges,  which  add 
still  more  to  his  moral  worth,  and  exert  a  mightier  influence 
over  his  final  destiny? 

This  we  consider  a  sufficient  reply  to  all  that  infidelity 
has  urged  on  this  subject,  either  in  the  way  of  argument,  or 
in  the  way  of  ridicule.  But  there  are  Christians  likewise,  who 
are  opposed  to  the  doctrine  of  God's  absolute  and  uncontrol- 
lable sovereignty  over  his  creatures,  because  they  have  been 
taught  to   consider  it   as  arbitrary'  and  tyrannical.     To  such 


330      REMISSION   OF  SINS  THROUGH  FAITH  IN   CHRIST. 

we  might  plead,  not  only  the  administration,  not  only  of  God's 
natural,  but  likewise  of  his  spiritual  government  on  earth.  Had 
the  Jew  no  advantages  above  the  heathen  ?  Have  we  no  ad- 
vantages above  the  Jews  of  old  ?  Do  we  not  live  un  der 
a  clearer  light,  a  brighter  and  better  dispensation  ?  Did  not 
the  prophet  look  forward  Avith  longing  eyes  to  the  days  of 
Christian  blessedness,  and  long  to  see  them  ?  Now  to  whom 
do  we  owe  these  superior  blessings,  and  to  whom  did  the 
Jews  owe  the  privileges  they  enjoyed?  Why  were  you  born 
in  a  Christian  land,  under  the  full  liglit  of  Gospel  days,  while 
hundreds  of  millions  are  born,  and  live,  and  die  without 
having  one  true  conception  of  God  or  one  oft'er  of  salvation 
through  the  only  Mediator  ?  Why  were  the  angels  passed  by 
when  they  had  fallen  ?  Why  did  the  Saviour  take  upon  him 
the  seed  of  Abraham,  and  not  the  nature  of  angels  ?  Why 
are  you  a  man,  and  not  a  brute  or  an  angel  ?  To  all  these 
questions  the  only  answer  is  in  the  language  of  God's  Word, 
"  Even  so,  Father,  for  so  it  seemed  good  in  thy  sight."  We 
know  his  goodness,  we  know  his  wisdom,  and  therefore  we 
believe  that  all  his  ways  are  ways  of  righteousness  and  truth. 
We  do  not  stop  to  fathom  what  is  unfathomable ;  we  do  not 
pause  to  investigate  what  is  inscrutable ;  but  rejoicing  in  God, 
we  leave  all  in  his  hands,  and  say,  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth 
will  do  right.  This  is  the  doctrine  of  God's  sovereignty,  so 
much  traduced,  so  little  understood,  taught  in  his  Word  and 
in  his  works,  in  the  dealings  of  his  providence,  and  in  the 
whole  economy  of  his  grace ;  interwoven  with  every  devout 
feeling  toward  God,  and  every  true  conception  of  his  charac- 
ter; without  which  religion  is  but  a  name,  and  apparent  piety, 
however  ardent,  is  but  a  revolting  mixture  of  atheism  and 
fanaticism. 

II.  Let  us  consider  next  the  greatness  of  the  blessing  offered 
us  in  the  Gospel — the  remission  of  sins.  There  are  many 
who  nauseate  the  whole  tenor  and  style  of  the  Bible  commu- 
nications, because  it  contains  so  much  about  sin.  They  would 
be  much  better  pleased  if  its  pages  were  wholly  filled  with 
glowing  descriptions  of  the  greatness  and  benevolence  and 


REMISSION"  OF  SIXS  THROUGH  FAITH   IN"   CHRIST.      331 

majesty  of  God,  and  tlie  kind  and  amiable  affections  wliich 
adorn  tlie  cliaracter  of  mankind,  than  to  be  perpetually  an- 
noyed with  the  repetition  of  the  truth,  that  men  are  sinners, 
and  that  the  holiness  of  God  cannot  look  upon  sin  with  the 
slightest  toleration.  But  surely  if  God  speak  at  all  to  man, 
he  must  address  him  as  a  sinner ;  nor  can  the  inhabitants  of 
this  rebellious  province  exj)ect  that  language  of  mild  approval, 
and  unmingled  tenderness  which  would  characterize  a  procla- 
mation to  his  loyal  subjects.  If  he  speak  at  all,  he  must  speak  of 
sin ;  and  what  a  mercy  that  he  speaks  of  its  remission ;  that  he 
reveals  a  scheme  devised  by  infinite  wisdom,  executed  by  infi- 
nite power,  offered  by  infinite  love,  and  urged  with  infinite 
tenderness  and  condescension,  a  method  by  which  God  can  be 
just  and  yet  justify  the  sinner. 

Sin  violates  the  law  of  God  which  is  pledged  to  punish  it ; 
insults  the  holiness  of  God,  whose  purity  abhors  it;  rebels 
against  his  authority,  which  must  be  exerted  to  repress  it ; 
destroys  the  happiness  of  his  creatures,  which  must  ever  be 
the  object  of  his  watchful  care.  When  the  angels  left  their 
allegiance,  the  penalty  of  violated  law  fell  upon  their  heads. 
They  were  sunk  hopelessly  and  irrecoverably  from  the  heights 
of  bliss  into  the  depths  of  perdition,  and  the  righteous  in- 
dignation of  God  has  reserved  them  under  chains  of  darkness 
to  the  judgment  of  the  great  day.  Well  may  we  then  rejoice 
when  sin  is  the  subject  of  his  message  to  our  world,  that  it  is 
the  remission  of  sin  which  forms  the  burden  of  that  revelation. 
It  was  this  which  formed  the  subject  of  the  first  great  promise 
to  mankind,  and  this  was  the  object  of  all  God's  subsequent 
providential  dealings  with  our  race ;  to  this  the  whole  cere- 
monial of  the  law,  to  this  all  the  predictions  of  the  prophets 
pointed.  For  this  the  thousand  victims  bled  on  Jewish  altars, 
and  for  this  the  Son  of  God  came  down  to  shed  his  blood  upon 
the  cross.  It  was  this  the  angels  celebrated  when  they  an- 
nounced our  Lord's  appearance  upon  earth,  and  into  this  great 
mystery  we  are  informed  they  still  strive  to  search  with  all 
the  ardor  of  unsatisfied  desire,  with  all  the  delight  of  adoring 
admiration.     Nay,  they  are  gladly  employed  as  ministering 


332      REMISSION    OF   SINS   THROUGH   FAITH  IN   CHRIST. 

spirits,  in  promoting  this  great  scheme  of  reconciliation ;  and 
when  one  sonl  has  returned  to  God,  and  obtained  the  remis- 
sion of  his  sins,  those  happy  spirits  tune  their  harps  afresh, 
and  a  new  song  of  praise  and  adoration  resounds  through  the 
courts  of  heaven. 

Is  it  possible,  then,  that  any  of  us  should  consider  the  remis- 
sion of  his  sins  as  a  matter  of  small  importance  ?  Would  he, 
whose  mighty  mind  takes  in  the  vast  concerns  of  this  great 
creation,  have  lavished  so  much  of  his  Avisdom  and  his  grace 
upon  a  matter  of  small  importance  ?  Would  he  have  foretold 
it  in  prophecy  and  prefigured  it  in  types  ;  would  he  have  caused 
the  events  of  kingdoms  and  empires  to  conspire  for  its  i:)ro- 
motiou ;  would  he  have  made  it  the  only  subject  of  his  only 
communication  with  mankind ;  would  he  have  employed  the 
holiest  and  mightiest  of  his  servants,  even  those  that  dwell 
in  his  presence,  and  burn  around  his  throne  to  announce  and 
promote  it ;  would  he  have  sent  his  son  to  reveal,  to  recom- 
mend, to  seal  it  with  his  blood,  if  it  were  a  matter  which 
man  might  safely  treat  with  cool  indifterence  or  haughty  con- 
tempt? Would  he  whose  smallest  works  are  replete  with 
wisdom,  while  the  greatest  of  them  dazzle  and  overwhelm  our 
feebleness  in  the  efibrt  to  comprehend  them,  on  all  whose 
doings  is  the  stamp  of  the  infinite  and  the  eternal ;  would  he 
challenge  all  principalities  and  powers  to  behold  his  manifold 
wisdom  in  the  scheme  for  the  remission  of  sins,  if  there  were 
nothing  in  the  purpose  for  which  this  scheme  was  devised, 
that  was  worthy  of  him  who  devised,  and  of  those  whom  it 
was  designed  to  benefit  ?  No,  my  friends,  it  was  worthy  of 
God  to  offer,  and  worthy  of  man  to  accept.  It  is  only  after 
our  sins  are  remitted,  that  we  can  have  peace  with  God,  and 
access  to  our  Father's  presence.  By  nature  we  are  children  of 
wrath.  We  are  condemned  already,  and  the  sentence  of 
God's  law  still  hangs  over  us,  ready  to  be  executed.  We  are 
the  enemies  of  God,  and  he  is  the  enemy  of  the  sinner.  All 
his  attributes  are  arrayed  in  fearful  hostility  against  him.  His 
justice  cannot  spare  the  condemned  criminal;  his  holiness  can- 
not endure  the  polluted  sinner.     His  very  mercy   cries  for 


REMISSION   OF   SINS   THROUGH  FAITH   IN   CHRIST.      333 

vengeance  upon  him,  whose  obstinate  rebellion  wages  war 
against  all  that  is  holy  and  happy  in  the  whole  creation.  To 
estimate  fully  the  value  of  the  blessing  which  is  offered  in  the 
remission  of  sins,  we  must  calculate  the  extent  of  all  which 
it  presents,  and  all  which  it  bestows.  It  can  only  be 
measured  by  the  greatness  of  the  torments  from  which  it  re- 
lieves us,  and  the  vastness  of  that  exceeding  and  immeasur- 
able glory  to  which  it  exalts  us.  To  comprehend  it  fully  we 
must  understand  all  that  man  can  suffer,  and  all  that  God  can 
inflict.  We  must  measure  the  duration  of  eternity,  and  know 
the  meaning  of  those  agonies  which  have  no  measure  and  no 
end ;  of  the  worm  that  never  dies,  and  the  fire  that  is  not 
quenched;  of  that  blackness  of  darkness  which  is  forever  and 
forever;  of  that  Tophet  which  is  ordained  of  old,  and  the  wrath 
of  the  Lord  like  a  stream  of  brimstone  doth  kindle  it  for- 
ever. This  we  shall  never  do,  till  the  history  of  this  world 
is  finished ;  till  the  number  of  the  redeemed  is  completed ; 
till  the  happy  have  enjoyed  all  that  immortal  spirits  can  en- 
joy, and  the  damned  have  suffered  all  that  undying  spirits  can 
endure,  when  reserved  to  high  endurance  by  Almighty  power. 
If  there  were  no  remission  of  sins,  then  the  law  of  God  still 
cries  out  for  the  punishment  of  every  sinner.  Then  the  long 
and  bright  company  of  saints,  who  have  marched  through  much 
tribulation  to  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  must  be  driven  from  the 
seats  of  blessedness.  Then  all  who  will  hereafter  join  that 
happy  host,  must  be  debarred  from  heaven.  Then  all  man's 
long,  long  generations  are  marching  to  perdition.  Then  pre- 
pare the  shroud  for  the  hopes  of  mankind,  and  let  eternal 
gloom  settle  down  upon  the  nations,  for  the  fierceness  of  God's 
fiery  wrath  is  still  unquenched  against  the  sinner,  and  though 
heaven  and  earth  should  pass  away,  not  one  jot  or  one  tittle 
shall  pass  from  the  law  till  all  be  fulfilled.  Xo  stain  shall 
tarnish  the  perfect  purity  of  heaven,  though  the  race  of  man 
should  be  multiplied  by  itself,  and  every  individual  should  die 
unpardoned.  The  happiness  of  the  few  on  earth  would  be 
purchased  too  dearly  at  the  expense  of  God's  holy  govern- 
ment and  the  untold  millions  of  his  obedient  subjects. 


334      REMISSION   OF   SINS  THROUGH  FAITH  IN  CHRIST. 

III.  Let  us  observe,  thirdly,  the  folly  and  inexcusableness  of 
the  sinner,  in  not  seeking  the  remission  of  his  sins.  If  the 
benefits  offered  in  the  Gospel  were  sraall  in  themselves,  they 
would  scarcely  deserve  the  anxious  efforts  of  the  sinner  to  obtain 
them.  If  they  were  encompassed  Avith  insupei-able  difficulties, 
we  might  lament  his  failure,  but  could  scarcely  blame  it.  If 
he  were  required  to  enter  on  some  doubtful  or  dangerous  en- 
terprise, the  degree  of  danger  and  uncertainty  would  palliate 
if  not  excuse  his  aversion  to  the  work.  If  the  offer  of  remis- 
sion which  comes  to  him  in  the  Gospel  were  of  uncertain  evi- 
dence, then  he  might  pass  it  by  as  an  idle  tale,  and  treat  it  as 
the  dream  of  an  enthusiast,  or  the  fabrication  of  an  impostor. 
But  none  of  these  suppositions  are  true.  The  evidence  is  full 
and  satisfactory,  founded  on  the  most  undoubted  miracles,  and 
the  surest  prophecies.  The  offer  is  sincere  and  free,  the  terms 
are  simple  and  easy,  the  benefits  incalculably  great.  But  the 
very  simplicity  and  easiness  of  the  duty,  furnish  grounds  for 
neglecting  it.  If  some  great  thing  had  been  required  of  us  ; 
had  we  been  required  to  endure  some  shocking  laceration,  to 
make  some  distant  pilgrimage,  to  work  out  in  any  way  some 
righteousness  of  our  own,  no  doubt  we  should  be  jDleased. 
But  when  the  easiest  of  all  things  is  offered  to  us,  salvation 
through  the  merits  of  another ;  when  the  simplest  of  all  things 
is  proposed  to  us,  to  accept  willingly  what  is  offered  freely, 
straightway  we  are  offended.  Like  the  Syrian  general  we  de- 
spise the  directions  of  the  prophet,  and  refuse  to  believe  that 
there  is  efficacy  in  the  fountain  which  is  opened  in  Israel  for 
sin  and  uncleanness.  But,  oh,  will  it  not  add  tenfold  to  the 
anguish  of  the  sinner  in  eternal  torments,  to  remember  how 
easy  was  the  way  to  heaven,  if  he  had  only  desired  to  travel 
it;  that  the  word  was  nigh  him,  even  in  his  mouth,  and  in  his 
heart ;  that  the  fruits  of  eternal  life  were  placed  within  his 
reach,  so  that  he  need  only  have  stretched  forth  his  hand  and 
ate  and  lived  forever.  Again,  if  the  mercy  offered  us  were 
small,  we  might  neglect  it  amidst  the  pressure  of  other  urgent 
business ;  and  if  it  were  lost  at  last,  it  might  be  compensated 
by  some  other  gain,  or  might  occasion  only  a  momentary  sigh. 


REMISSION   OF   SINS   THROUGH  FAITH   IN   CHRIST.      335 

But  the  blessing  offered  us  is,  as  we  have  endeavored  to  show, 
incalculably  great.  It  affects  the  whole  of  our  existence.  If 
lost,  no  other  gain  will  repair  the  loss.  It  will  not  call  for  a 
momentary  sigh  and  then  be  forgotten  forever,  but  the  mem- 
ory of  its  loss  and  of  the  inexcusable  folly  which  occasioned 
it,  will  harass  the  soul  throughout  all  eternity.  Perhaps  of 
all  the  lamentations  which  are  raised  in  the  pit  of  darkness, 
this  will  not  be  the  least,  that  they  have  foolishly  cast  away 
the  highest  privileges,  and  trampled  under  foot  the  choicest 
blessings ;  have  proved  false  to  their  own  best  interests,  and 
with  suicidal  hand  have  dangered  their  own  highest  hopes. 
Is  not  this  the  meaning  of  that  wail  of  agony  which  rever- 
berates forever  around  the  prison-house  of  despair  ?  "  The 
harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is  ended  and  gone,  and  my  soul 
is  not  saved  !"  I  had  once  a  harvest  where  I  might  have 
gathered  the  fruits  of  eternal  life,  but  that  harvest  is  past  to 
return  no  more.  I  had  once  a  summer  when  the  beams  of 
God's  favor  illuminated  my  path,  but  that  summer  is 
ended  and  gone,  and  yet  my  soul  is  not  saved.  It  is  not  so" 
much  what  I  am,  as  what  I  might  have  been  that  annoys  my 
soul.  The  gloomy  horrors  of  my  present  condition  might  per- 
haps be  borne,  if  it  were  not  for  that  image  of  the  past,  which, 
like  a  spectre,  still  haunts  me  in  the  cavern  of  despair ;  that 
image  of  the  past,  reflected  from  my  crushed  and  shattered 
spirit,  which  the  more  it  is  crushed  and  shattered,  but  multi- 
plies the  more  the  hateful  vision. 


XVII. 

THE  EXPANSIVE  BE]ST:V0LENCE  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 


Matt.  xiii.  38.— "The  field  is  the  world." 


It  is  the  beauty  of  the  Saviour's  parables,  that  they  spring 
spontaneously  and  naturally  from  the  circumstances  amidst 
which  he  spoke,  and  are  best  illustrated  from  the  scenery  and 
individuals  around.  At  the  time  when  that  series  of  parables 
was  spoken,  of  Avhich  our  text  forms  a  part,  he  was  sitting,  the 
apostle  informs  us,  in  a  ship  on  the  lake  of  Tiberias.  Behind 
him  was  the  sea  itself,  around  him  the  boats  of  the  fishermen, 
who  resorted  thither  to  procure  their  sustenance  from  its 
waters ;  before  him  a  mighty  crowd,  who  had  gathered  from 
every  village  and  city  of  Judea  to  hear  him ;  whilej  far  as 
eye  could  reach,  extended  wide  and  fertile  fields,  which  hus- 
bandmen were  preparing  to  receive  the  grain.  And  there  sat 
he,  the  messenger  from  heaven,  ''  who  spake  as  never  man 
spake;"  the  sea  behind  him,  the  sky  above  him,  immortal  souls 
before  him!  What  wonder  that  he  should  behold  a  deep  and 
spiritual  significance  in  the  scene,  and  lead  his  disciples  to 
meditate  a  nobler  husbandry  they  had  to  pursue ;  their  seed, 
God's  blessed  truth;  their  field  of  labor,  the  wide  w^orld  of 
man. 

It  is  thus  that  wherever  the  Saviour  is,  a  new  sublimity  over- 
spreads the  scene,  and  in  every  word  that  he  utters,  we  find 
the  evidence  of  the  same  large  and  capacious  mind,  embracing 
all  mankind  in  its  regard,  and  comprehending  all  time  in  its 
survey. 

I.  Permit  us,  then,  without  further  introduction,  and  imitat- 
ing the  simple  and  familiar  illustration  of  our  Saviour,  to  re- 


EXPANSIVE   BEXEVOLE^■CE   OF   THE    GOSPKL.  337 

mark  first,  that  the  world  is  God's  fiold.  It  was  his  by  the 
clearest,  stroiii^est,  most  indisputaV)le  of  all  titles, — origijial 
creation,  and  continued  preservation  of  all  things;  for  "of  him, 
and  through  him,  and  to  him,  are  all  things,  who  is  over  all, 
God  blessed  forever."  "The  earth  is  the  Lord's,  and  the  full- 
ness thereof,  the  world  and  they  that  dvv^ell  therein.  For  h^ 
hath  founded  it  upon  the  seas,  and  established  it  upon  the 
floods."  Psa.  xxiv.  1,2.  It  is  his  to  possess,  and  to  govern. 
"He  spread  abroad  the  heavens  by  his  power,  and  laid  tiie 
foundations  of  the  earth  ;  "•  by  d;iy  clothes  it  with  light  as  with 
a  garment,  by  night  it  reposes  beneath  the  shadow  of  his  wings. 
He  pours  over  it  all  hues  of  beauty,  stamps  upon  it  all  feature.^ 
of  grandeur,  causes  rain  to  descend,  the  sun  to  shine,  dews  to 
fall,  maketh  the  out-goings  of  the  morning  and  evening  to  re- 
joice, causing  the  cup  of  our  blessing  to  overflow,  giving  us 
life  and  health,  and  all  things  richly  to  enjoy,  sending  fruitful 
seasons,  filling  our  hearts  with  joy  and  gladness. 

He  is  the  former  of  our  bodies,  the  Father  of  onr  spirits;  in 
him  we  live  and  move  and  have  our  being.  "Oh,  come,  let  us 
worship  and  bow  down,  let  us  kneel  before  the  Lord  our  Mak- 
er, for  he  hath  made  us  and  not  we  ourselves,  for  we  are  the 
sheep  of  his  j^asture,  the  people  of  his  hand."  We  are  his  to 
possess,  and  his  to  govern.  True,  there  is  a  prince  of  the  power 
of  the  air,  a  spirit  that  reignethin  the  children  of  disobedience. 
Long  hath  he  waved  his  dark  sceptre  above  the  nations;  his 
dark  banner  hath  long  floated  in  defiance,  with  its  dismal  folds 
darkening  the  earth.  His  throne  is  founded  in  tears,  in  blood, 
but  his  dominion  is  an  usurped  dominion,  and  soon  must  pass 
aw^ay.  Its  death-blow  is  alrea<ly  struck,  and  it  is  tottering  to 
the  fall.  "For  I  beheld  Satan,'"  says  the  Saviour  exultingly, 
"  fall  like  lightning  Irom  heaven,"  so  suddenly,  so  vividly,  so 
rapidly,  so  irrecoverably,  from  such  a  height  to  such  an  abyss. 

Man,  too,  dared  to  claim  the  world  as  his,  to  i)ossess,  to  gov- 
ern, to  pervert,  to  pollute,  to  scourge,  to  erase  God's  image  and 
su))erscription  from  it,  and  stamp  instead  his  own  vile  mark  of 
Tassalage.  He  hath  trodden  proudly  on  earth  as  a  subjugated 
thing,  but  earth  hath  opened  wide  her  jaws  to  devour  him; 
15 


338  EXPANSIVE   BEXEYOLEXCE   OF   THE    GOSPEL. 

and  he  who  but  yesterday  seemed  by  his  nod  to  shake  llie 
spheres,  to-day  lies  cold  in  her  embrace,  food  for  her  worms. 
He  hath  called  himself  in  his  madness,  "  Lord  of  the  seas ;" 
but  the  sea  doth  spurn  his  dominion.  Behold  his  masts  shiver 
in  the  wind,  his  navies  are  crushed  amidst  the  waves,  and  he 
sinks  to  rise  again,  when  the  Lord  of  the  sea  shall  call  him. 
Surely  man,  with  all  his  pomp  and  pride,  walketh  in  a  vain 
show,  surely  he  is  altogether  vanity. 

Thinkest  thou,  poor  sinner,  because  thou  hast  rebelled  against 
his  authority,  that  it  is  overthroAvn  ;  because  thou  hast  wander- 
ed far  from  him,  that  thou  hast  escaped  beyond  the  limits  of 
his  government,  the  observation  of  his  eye,  beyond  the  reach 
of  his  arm,  the  grasp  of  his  all-embracing  presence?  Tiiou 
hast  spurned  his  authority;  like  Cain,  hast  fled  from  his  pres- 
ence ;  burst  his  bonds,  and  cast  off  his  cords ;  yet,  in  thy  deepest 
pollution,  thy  wildest  rebellion,  thy  farthest  wanderings,  the 
eye  of  a  master  rested  on  thee,  and  the  voice  of  supreme  au- 
thority was  heard,  commanding  thee  to  return.  Ah,  wliither 
shalt  thou  go  from  his  spirit,  whither  flee  from  his  presence  ? 
Wouldest  thou  take  the  wings  of  the  morning,  and  dwell  in  the 
uttermost  parts  of  earth?  the  hand  thou  spurnest  must  uphold 
thy  flight,  the  presence  thou  wouldst  shun  surrounds  thee 
even  there.  That  morning  light  in  its  onward  flight  hath 
visited  many  a  land  ;  go  with  it,  and  in  all,  the  presiding  and 
governing  God  is  there.  It  hath  blushed  on  eastern  sky, 
brightened  the  distant  hoiizon,  penetrated  mountain  forest, 
and  gleamed  in  the  vale  below,  from  land  to  land  hurrying, 
and  now  is  glittering  on  western  sea.  It  hath  glanced  in 
its  course  on  mosque  and  minaret,  on  Christian  church  and 
heathen  temple,  on  tower  and  dome,  palace  of  king,  mansion 
of  noble,  hovel  of  poverty,  entered  that  high  apartment  and 
startled  the  lordly  slumberer  from  his  dreams.  It  hath  glanced 
through  the  low  lattice,  and  hath  fallen  chceringly  on  the  pallid 
race  of  disease.  It  hath  beamed  upon  that  countenance  lighted 
up  with  faith  of  the  mother  interceding  with  God  for  her  pro- 
digal son.  It  hath  visited  earth  as  an  angel  of  lo\  e,  spreading 
her  mantle  of  beautv  over  sea  and  land,  and  awakincr  ihe  na- 


EXPANSIVE   BENEVOLENCE   OF   THE   GOSPEL.  339 

tions  to  a  new  existence  of  activity  and  joy;  and  wherever  it 
has  gone,  on  whatever  field  of  grandeur  or  of  loveliness  it 
may  have  shone,  the  Omnipresent  Deity  was  there,  there  in  his 
power  to  govern,  there  in  his  goodness  to  bless.  For  the 
worhi  is  a  field  for  the  manifestation  of  his  divine  perfections, 
and  on  this  field  has  he  lavished,  in  boundless  profusion,  the 
riches  of  his  wisdom  and  power  and  love. 

It  is  a  wide  field,  yet  wander  w^here  you  may  the  footsteps 
of  the  Deity  are  ever  visible,  visible  in  the  beauty  he  hath 
poured  over  nature,  visible  in  the  provision  he  hath  made  for 
man,  and  in  the  wonders  his  power  hath  created.  Oh,  what  a 
field  is  this  which  God  hath  chosen  as  the  theatie  for  the  dis- 
play of  his  glorious  perfections,  a  field  where  the  flowers  of 
paradise  might  bloom  and  cluster  with  fruits  of  heaven !  Alas, 
that  sin  hath  entered  so  fair  a  field,  to  ravage  and  desolate  it, 
to  mar  its  loveliness,  and  turn  its  sweetest  joys  into  fruits  of 
bitterness  !  Alas,  that  Satan  hath  entered  it  to  glut  his  appe- 
tite for  misery,  his  malignant  hatred  against  God  and  holi- 
ness, and  converted  the  garden  of  the  Lord  into  a  nursery  of 
demons.  Human  passions,  fiery  and  malignant,  have  made  it  a 
field  for  their  mad  career,  with  whirlwind  violence  sweeping 
wildly  over  it,  blasting  and  withering  as  they  pass,  and  mark- 
ing it  with  tears  and  blood.  Ambition  hath  made  it  a  field  of 
rivalry  and  avarice,  afield  of  cruel  extortion  ;  sensuality,  a  field 
of  brutal  lust;  jealousy,  of  hatred  and  revenge;  and  alto- 
gether a  field  of  carnage,  a  perfect  Aceldama. 

Oh,  brethren,  when  you  look  abroad  over  the  earth,  and  see 
how  men  and  devils,  in  their  very  wantonness,  have  marred 
this  fair  field,  do  you  not  sometimes  exclaim  with  the  Psalmist, 
Hath  God  forgotten,  are  his  mercies  clean  gone  forever  ? 
Amidst  the  disquietude  of  thy  spirit,  turn  away  from  the 
deeds  of  man  to  meditate  on  the  works  of  God.  Behold  the 
supremacy  of  his  ever-present  agency.  On  the  battle-field, 
amidst  the  dying  and  the  dead,  his  laws  are  not  suspended. 
Man  does  his  worst,  but  nature  remains  unaltered;  the  flowers 
bloom  as  lovely  still  amidst  mangled  corpses,  and  the  stars 
shine  quieily  on,  over  heaps  of  slain.     God_  still  continues  to 


340  EXPANSIVE   BENEVOLENCE   OF   THE   GOSPEL. 

manifest  his  goodness  and  wisdom,  despite  the  sinfulness  of 
man,  and  foils  the  rage  of  Satan.  For  this  world  has  been 
for  centuries  the  theatre  of  a  conflict,  more  terrific  and  more 
sublime  than  any  which  the  mighty  men  of  earth  have  waged, 
when  they  deluged  the  land  with  blood,  and  shook  the  seas 
with  the  roar  of  their  artillery.  It  is  a  mighty  contest,  waged 
by  spiritual  and  superior  beings,  for  sovereignty  over  the  souls 
of  men  and  supremacy  in  this  field. 

It  is  in  this  fearful  conliict,  that  this  world  has  become  the 
field  of  God's  most  amazing  manifestations.  He  may  else- 
where have  built  up  greater  wonders,  and  pencilled  brighter 
beauties,  and  in  the  hearts  of  living  inhabitants,  as  well  as  in 
material  scenery  on  the  surface,  may  liave  exhibited  to  the 
eye  of  intelligent  observation  a  far  more  attractive  and 
imposing  spectacle.  But  in  the  fall  and  redemption  of  this 
world,  there  is  something  of  far  deeper  and  more  enduring  in- 
terest than  in  all  the  grandeur  of  the  material  creation.  It  is 
to  the  universe  what  Palestine  is  to  our  earth,  a  land  of  holy 
wonders.  It  is  the  Thermopylae  of  the  moral  universe,  where 
the  great  battle  has  been  fought,  and  the  victory  won,  and  the 
triumph  proclaimed,  and  the  Captain  of  our  salvation,  by 
shedding  his  own  blood,  lias  wrought  an  eternal  deliverance  for 
his  people.  Here  then  the  world  is  his  by  a  new,  more  sacred, 
and  more  solemn  title,  a  title  sealed  with  blood,  the  blood  of 
his  Son.  And  think  you,  shall  he  not  see  of  the  travail  of  his 
soul  and  be  satisfied,  perfectly  satisfied  ?  Hath  he  purchased 
it  at  a  price  so  costly,  merely  that  he  might  cast  it  away  in  in- 
difierence,  or  yield  it  to  his  foes  ?  "  As  I  live,  saith  the  Lord, 
every  knee  shall  bow,  and  every  tongue  confess.  The  knowl- 
edge of  the  Lord  shall  cover  the  earth,  as  the  waters  cover  the 
great  deep.  Every  valley  shall  be  exalted,  every  mountain 
and  liill  shall  be  brought  low  ;  crooked  places  shall  be  made 
straight,  and  rough  places  smooth,  and  the  glory  of  the  Lord 
shall  be  revealed,  and  all  flesh  shall  see  it  together,  for  the 
moutii  of  the  Lord  hath  spoken  it."  Unless  prophecy  be  false, 
the  world  icill  he  reclaimed.  Oh,  brethren,  had  we  not  seen  it, 
could  we  haTC  believed  that  this  very  field — where  God  hath 


EXPANSIVE   BEXEVOLE>TCE   OF  THE   GOSPEL.  341 

stooped  to  manifest  the  boundlessness  of  his  own  high  and 
eternal  attributes;  where  on  every  thing  around  are  starrij^ed 
in  characters  of  light,  visible  and  palpable  to  all,  the  revela- 
tions of  his  existence  and  awful  presence — human  folly  hath 
chosen  as  the  theatre  for  the  display  of  human  greatness ;  that 
amidst  these  monuments  of  his  power,  in  this  majestic  temple, 
which  the  hand  of  the  Almighty  hath  erected  for  his  worship, 
and  from  every  part  of  which,  as  from  a  living  Shekinah  of 
light  and  love,  are  ever  streaming  forth  the  radiations  of  his 
glory,  before  God  and  angels  and  devils — man  would  dare  to 
step  forth  in  the  pride  of  imaginary  power,  and  do  deeds  of 
devilishness,  which  wrap  the  earth  in  sackcloth,  and  veil  the 
sky  in  blackness,  and  call  down  thunderbolts  of  w^rath  ! 

II.  But  consider,  secondly,  that  this  world  is  also  our  field. 
Our  Master's  field  is  ours.  It  is  his  to  create,  to  uphold,  to 
possess,  to  govern,  to  redeem,  and,  by  its  redemption,  to  mani- 
fest most  illustriously  his  glory.  It  is  ours^  to  occupy  in  the 
Master's  name,  and  cultivate  to  the  Master's  glory,  and  sub- 
due to  the  Master's  seivice ;  and  what  employment  could  be 
more  elevated,  what  destiny  more  glorious  than  this,  to  be  co- 
workers with  God  in  the  salvation  of  such  a  world  ?  But  re- 
member it  is  not  a  couch  for  repose,  or  a  throne  for  exaltation, 
but  ^  field  for  labor.  Lift  up  your  eyes.  Behold  how  wide 
the  field,  how  precious  the  harvest,  how  great  the  desolations 
sin  hatli  wrought!  Call  up,  if  possible,  before  your  minds  all 
the  sins  and  miseries  that  from  creation  downward  have  de- 
faced and  polluted  the  world  ;  the  sighs  of  sufibring  inno- 
cence, the  groans  of  the  oppressed,  who  liad  none  to  deliver, 
the  innocent  blood  shed  from  the  days  of  righteous  Abel 
downward.  Calculate  the  victims  whom  war  hath  hurried 
into  eternity.  Let  them  pass  before  your  eyes,  the  host  of 
desolate  widows  and  weeping  orphans,  whom  the  bloody 
cruelty  of  man  hath  robbed  of  a  protector.  See  how  the  tide 
of  the  world's  population  has  swept  on,  wave  after  wave  in 
rapid  succession,  and  each  wave  stained  with  blood,  and 
mingled  with  bitter  tears.  Conceive  the  misery  of  a  single 
soul,  whom  sceiDticism   hatli   robbed  of  all    future   hope,  or 


3-i2  EXPANSIVE   BENEVOLENCE   OF   THE  GOSPEL. 

superstition  hath  wrapt  in  an  eternal  gloom,  or  idolatry  hath 
degraded  to  the  level  of  a  brute,  or  wild  excess  of  appetite 
and  passion  hath  inflamed  to  the  fury  of  a  fiend.  Rather  con- 
ceive the  condition  of  a  soul  whei'e  all  these  various  elements 
of  misery  are  struggling  together  for  the  mastery,  aggravating 
each  the  hoi-rors  of  the  other,  and  adding  to  their  combined 
results  the  terrible  anguish  of  uncertainty,  then  multiply  these 
horrors  by  six  hundred  millions,  and  you  will  form  some  con- 
ception of  the  misery  which  in  each  successive  generation  sin 
is  spreading  over  the  world  ;  and  shall  this  last  forever  ?  In 
the  name  of  bleeding  and  suffering  millions,  in  tlie  nam.e  ol 
humanity  and  religion,  in  the  name  of  the  living  God,  Ave  an- 
swer— No.  There  is  balm  in  Gilead,  a  j^liysician  there,  a 
remedy  for  human  disorders,  a  panacea  for  human  woes.  We 
will  rise  and  bear  it  to  our  brethren,  wherever  there  is  misery 
to  be  relieved,  or  ignorance  to  be  enlightened,  or  pollution  to 
be  purified,  or  sin  to  be  forgiven  ;  wherever  man  exists  with 
his  weakness  and  woes,  there  we  will  penetrate  with  the  light 
of  the  Gospel  in  our  hands,  and  the  faith  and  love  of  the  Gospel 
in  our  hearts.  Oh,  brethren,  that  was  a  fine  thought  of  the 
heathen  poet :  "  I  am  a  man,  and  nothing  human  is  foreign  to 
me."  But  what  are  the  interests  for  which  in  a  moment  of 
pathetic  enthusiasm  he  felt  such  deep  sensibility,  in  compari- 
son with  those  higher  enduring  interests  wdiich  the  Gospel  has 
revealed  ?  Those  interests  are  of  a  body  soon  to  crumble ;  these 
are  the  interests  of  a  soul  which,  when  empires  had  passed 
away,  and  worlds  crumbled,  would  be  just  commencing  an  ex- 
istence ;  whose  progressive  advancements  in  joy  or  woe,  num- 
bers could  not  calculate,  and  only  eternity  could  measure  out. 
But  where  shall  we  find  the  spirit  that  is  large  enough  to  em- 
brace a  world,  and  bold  enough  to  dare  all,  and  endure  all,  for 
the  welfare  of  others?  It  is  found  only  in  the  Gospel  of  the 
Saviour. 

Here  is  the  grand  announcement  made,  that  the  field  is  the 
world.  On  every  page  of  this  wonderful  book,  the  Bible,  we 
find  the  impress  of  the  same  large  and  capacious  mind,  em- 
bracing all  mankind  in  its  regards,  and  comprehending  all 


EXPANSIVE   Bl-:NEVOLb:NCK   OF   TUK   GOSPEL.  343 

time  in  its  survey.  Its  charity  is  as  wile  as  (he  world  ;  its 
philantliro])y,  overleaping  all  nation.-il  boundaries,  expansive 
as  our  race.  Man,  at  best  a  minute  and  narrow-minded  crea- 
ture, engrossed  with  his  own  petty  ])ursnits,  anxieties,  and 
cares,. seldom  looks  abroad  on  the  miseries  of  his  race;  or  if 
some  tale  of  sorrow  excite  a  momentary  comparison,  gives 
sparinglj^  out  of  his  abundance,  and  returns  with  quiet  self- 
complacency  to  his  accustomed  enjoyments.  The  statesmen 
and  philosophers  of  old  confined  their  sympathies  to  the  limits 
of  their  own  country,  and  even  in  its  boundaries  looked  witiv 
contemptuous  pity  on  the  poor  and  ignorant.  But  to  enlighten 
tlie  ignorant,  to  purify  the  polluted,  to  relieve  the  wretched,  to 
civilize  the  barbarous,  and  humanize  the  beastly  of  other 
lauds,  practically  to  sympathize  with  human  suffering,  wher- 
ever it  may  be  found,  and  to  know  no  luxury  so  great  as  that 
of  doing  good — such  exalted  principles  of  action  as  these 
were  unknown  to  man,  till  taught  by  him  whose  life  and  death 
were  their  most  glorious  exemplification. 

There  is  sometimes  indeed  among  worldly  men,  a  sort  of 
poetic  sensibility,  which  weeps  and  sighs,  and  is  most  wonder- 
fully pathetical ;  and  amidst  the  luxury  of  this  pleasing  sen  li- 
mentalism,  you  might  deem  them  the  most  heroic  philanthro- 
pists of  their  day.  But  this  philanthropy  soon  evaporates  in 
eloquence  and  tears.  Hence  in  the  whole  history  of  modern 
benevolence,  you  will  not  find  a  single  scheme  requiring  for  its 
accomplishment  a  bold,  self-sacrificing  disinterestedness,  which 
has  not  been  devised  by  Christian  zeal,  and  executed  by  Chris- 
tian courage.  Nay,  we  most  confidently  assert,  that  in  every 
great  and  beneficial  revolution,  which  has  passed  on  human  so- 
ciety, in  the  opinions  and  conditions  of  men,  in  every  mighty 
battle  fought  for  the  welfare  of  our  race,  the  blood  that  has 
been  shed  was  the  blood  of  Ciiristian  martyrs  ;  the  men  w^Iio 
pioneered  the  cause,  and  the  men  Avho  carried  on  the  cause, 
and  by  their  labors  and  sufi'e rings  brought  it  to  a  triumphant 
issue,  were  men  versed  in  the  doctrines  and  imbued  with  the 
spirit  of  the  Gospel.  Need  I  refer  for  proof  to  the  establish- 
ment of  Christianity,  to  the  Reformation,  to  the  abolition  of 


344  EXPAXSIYE   BENEVOLENCE   OF   THE   GOSPEL. 

the  slave-trade,  or  the  miglity  work  of  modern  missions,  while 
the  infidel  philosopher  sat  securely  in  his  study,  and  laughed  to 
scorn  the  fanatical  foUy  which  dared  such  dangers,  with  such 
remote  prospect  of  success. 

In  their  commencement,  modern  missions  were  derided  as 
chimerical,  impracticable,  and  their  failure  predicted  as  certain. 
Philosophers  laughed  and  theorized. ;  Christians  schemed, 
Christians  went  to  work,  wept  and  prayed  and  labored,  and 
now^  behold  the  result.  In  every  quarter  of  the  globe  missions 
have  been  established;  in  fifty-six  languages  tlie  Bible  and 
other  books  have  been  printed  and  read ;  civilization  has  fi)l- 
loTved  in  the  train  of  religion  with  the  smiling  cottage,  the 
quiet  fireside,  the  cultivated  farm;  and  thus,  while  guiding  to 
heaven,  has  Christianity  been  found  diffusing  blessings  along 
man's  pathway  on  earth. 

Now  we  say  that  this  is  all  because  Christianity  has  intro- 
duced a  new  principle  of  action,  a  new  motive  for  human  con- 
duct, new  stimulus  for  human  energies;  a  stimulus  so  strong 
that  it  can  raise  the  tone  of  human  feeling  far  above  the  level 
of  otir  daily  and  selfish  anxieties  and  pursuits,  and  urge  it  on 
to  mightier  enterprises  for  the  good  of  the  species.  It  is  the 
profound  remark  of  Madame  de  Stael  in  the  ablest  of  all  her 
works,  a  remark  founded  on  an  extensive  and  thorough  ex- 
amination of  history,  that  no  mighty  influence  has  ever  been 
exerted  over  human  destiny,  no  great  revolution  produced 
in  human  affairs,  without  the  influence  of  enthusiasm.  Xot 
that  w^ild  and  disordered  passion  which  perverts  the  faculties, 
but  that  divine  and  noble  ardor,  which  in  pursuit  of  a  great 
object,  elevates  the  soul  above  the  every-day  weakness  and 
bitterness  of  life ;  above  the  appetites  that  debase,  and  pas- 
sions that  seduce,  and  anxieties  that  perplex,  and  dangers  that 
alarm  mankind,  and  makes  it  master  of  the  circumstances  of 
which  others  are  the  slaves. 

Such  was  the  enthusiasm  of  glory  among  the  Romans;  such 
the  enthusiasm  of  learning  at  its  first  revival  in  Europe ;  such 
the  spirit  of  primitive  Christians,  when  men  w^ent  exulting  to 
the  stake  or  the  cross;  and  such  must  be  the  temper  inspired 


EXPANSIVE   BENEVOLENCE   OF   THE   GOSPEL.  345 

by  any  system,  which  is  to  lay  strong  hold  on  the  minds  of 
men,  and  is  destined  to  become  universal. 

Such  is  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel,  self-denying,  self-consecrat- 
ing, self-sacrificing,  of  Him  who  came  into  the  world  not  to 
be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister,  and  "  to  give  his  life  a 
ransom  for  many ; "  of  Him  who  said,  "  I  have  a  work  to  do, 
and  how  am  I  straitened  till  it  l)e  accomplished;"  of  that 
Apostle  who  said,  "  I  count  not  my  life  dear,  so  that  I 
might  finish  my  course  with  joy,  and  testify  the  Gospel  of 
the  grace  of  God;"  of  the  holy  martyrs,  of  the  noble  re- 
formers, of  the  modern  missionaries,  of  every  Christian  in 
whose  bosom  reigns  that  "spirit  of  Christ  without  which 
none  can  be  his." 

And  here,  brethren,  we  do  fear  there  is  utterly  a  delusion 
amongst  you ;  that  mnny  of  you  console  yourselves  with  the 
thought,  that  the  missionary,  the  pastor,  the  theological 
student  perhaps,  ought  to  cherish  and  to  manifest  this  sjiirit  of 
entire  consecration;  but  that  for  yourselves,  a  lower  standard 
of  religion  will  surely  suftice.  But  what  is  the  teaching  of  the 
inspired  Apostle  ?  "  None  of  us  liveth  to  himself,  and  none 
dieth  to  himself;  whether  we  live,  we  live  unto  the  Lord;  or 
whether  we  die,  we  die  unto  the  Lord :  whether  we  live  there- 
fore or  die,  we  are  the  Lord's."  "Now  I  beseech  you  breth- 
ren, offer  your  bodies  nnd  spirits  a  living  sacrifice  unto  God." 
"Ye  are  not  your  own,  but  bought  with  a  price,  therefore 
glorify  God  with  your  bodies  and  spirits  which  are  God's." 
Oh  no,  there  is  no  easier  religion  for  you;  the  same  salvation 
is  offered,  the  same  motives  presented,  the  same  crown  pre- 
pared, the  same  cross  to  be  borne.  Are  your  talents  more 
limited?  then  consecrate  more  unreservedly  what  you  have. 
It  was  he  with  one  talent  who  alone  was  lost.  We  need  this 
spirit  of  self-consecration  as  much  for  its  influence  at  home,  as 
for  its  mighty  operathm  abroad.  We  need  the  stimulus  of 
some  great  enterprise,  to  wake  up  the  slumbering  energies  of 
the  church  ;  the  power  of  some  noble  and  exalted  principle  to 
expel  the  frivolous  spirit  of  the  world.  Oh,  were  its  influence 
felt  only  amongst  us,  how  unspeakably  blessed  might  be  the 
15* 


346  EXPAXSIYE   BENEVOLENCE   OF   THE   GOSPEL. 

results  on  ourselves,  on  our  families,  on  the  many  youth  ^vho 
resort  liither  from  year  to  year  ! 

Could  there  issue  from  this  place  only,  one  hundred  young 
men,  ten  annually  for  ten  successive  years,  whose  souls  were 
burning  with  the  love  of  the  Saviour,  whose  spirits  were 
awake  to  the  magnitude  of  the  great  work  before  them,  whose 
minds  were  indeed  cast  on  the  circle  of  the  earth,  and  their 
thoughts  glowing  with  fire  sent  down  from  heaven,  what 
wonders  might  they  not  effect,  wiih  the  blessing  of  God  on 
their  labors.  They  might  revolutionize  a  nation,  they  might 
shake  a  continent,  their  influence  be  felt  and  their  voice  be 
heard  around  the  globe.  Why  may  this  not  be  ?  It  is  because 
your  own  influence,  example,  and  worldly  spirit  render  them 
worldly,  ambitious,  and  vain.  They  breathe  a  polluted  atmos- 
phere, and  all  their  vital  energies  are  palsied,  and  thus  many 
congregations  that  shall  pine  beneath  their  ministry,  the 
heathen  whom  they  might  have  saved,  the  world  for  which 
they  ought  to  have  labored^  all  will  rise  up  in  judgment 
against  you  at  the  last  day. 


XVIII. 

THE   PROVINCE   OF   FAITH. 


John  xiv.  1. — "  Ye  believe  in  God,  believe  also  in  nie." 


There  is  an  niidacious  spirit  of  speculation,  frivolous  and 
flippant,  superficial  and  yet  presumptuous,  which  refuses  to  be- 
lieve aught  that  it  cannot  comprehend  and  perfectly  explain. 
There  is  an  humble  piety,  ignorant  and  contracted,  ever 
trembling  for  the  Ark,  like  a  man  groping  his  way  amidst  the 
twilight  with  a  priceless  treasure,  whicli  is  startled  at  the  ap- 
proach of  imaginary  dangers,  shrinks  from  the  light  that 
w^ould  unmask  its  foes  and  reveal  their  weakness,  and  in  its 
terror  loses  its  grasp  upon  the  very  truths  whicli  a  manlier 
courage  had  successfully  defended,  and  whose  inestimable 
value  alone  had  excited  its  groundless  fears. 

If  there  be  anything  on  earth  of  value  surpassing  all  human 
calculation,  it  is  a  firm  and  assured  faith.  The  strongest  thing 
on  the  broad  earth  is  a  man  of  faith.  There  is  nothing  sub- 
limer  beneath  the  skies.  Beneath  him  is  the  Rock  of  Ages  ; 
above  him  is  the  deep  heaven  of  heavens,  in  its  solemn  and 
illimitable  grandeur;  around  him  the  awful  majesty  of  God ; 
within  him  a  serene  and  celestial  joy.  He  walks  the  earth 
with  a  different  step  from  other  men.  He  is  going  to  another 
country,  even  an  heavenly.  Dangers  cannot  awe  him.  Tempta- 
tions cannot  seduce  him ;  for  the  love  of  Christ  doth  con- 
strain him,  and  crowns  of  glory,  unseen  by  others,  are  briglit 
before  him.  The  arms  of  everlasting  love  encircle  him. 
Angelic  hosts  encamp  around  him.  Fires  cannot  consume 
him ;  the   sword   cannot   slay  him ;    for  he   bears   a  charmed 


348  THE   PROTINCE   OF   FAITH. 

life,  and,  even  heie,  is  invulnerable  and  immortal  till  his  work 
be  done.  As  heir  of  all  things  life  is  his,  death  is  h^s, 
heaven  is  his,  earth  is  his,  God  and  Christ  are  his.  No 
wonder,  tlien,  that  faith  should  have  performed  those  prodi- 
gies of  valor  and  power  recorded  in  the  eleventh  chapter  of 
the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews;  and  left  those  bright  examples, 
vfhieh  the  Apostle  has  marshalled  there,  in  compact  and  bril- 
liant array ;  whose  names  fall  upon  our  ears  as  the  trumpet- 
tones  of  conflict  and  victory.  Men  of  fiith  have  ever  been 
men  of  power.  Faith  !  Yes,  our  faith— faith  in  God,  faith  in 
Christ,  faith  in  all  the  words  of  God.  Whatever  else  we 
neglect,  let  us  not  forget  to  cherish  our  faith  ;  to  hold  fast 
our  faith  even  to  the  end.  If  health,  character,  fortune, 
country,  fimily,  friends — all  were  gone,  faith  would  more  than 
supply  their  place. 

But  take  from  me  my  faith — tear  from  my  bleeding  and  pal- 
pitating heart  the  sweetest  and  loftiest  of  all  the  hopes  it  has 
ever  cherished — hopes  which  nestled  amidst  my  childish 
thoughts,  mingled  with  my  boyish  studies,  and  now,  in  the 
maturity  of  manhood,  sweep  from  horizon  to  horizon  of  my 
existence,  arching  the  heavens  with  sublimity  and  grandeui-, 
and  gilding  the  earth  with  beauty — rob  me  of  my  faith  in 
that  Eternal  Holiness  and  Omnipotent  Love  revealed  in  the 
Scriptures — and  who  shall  then  repair  the  ruins  of  this  deso- 
lated heart !  Bereft  of  faith,  I  am  left  alone  in  an  orphan 
world,  without  Father  or  f  lend,  without  guardian  or  guide, 
without  God  or  hope,  to  stand  amidst  the  shrouded  forms,  and 
spectral  memories,  and  sepulchral  monuments  of  hopes  that 
can  live  no  more. 

No  wonder,  then,  that  the  men  of  faith  in  every  age  have 
been  men  of  honor;  that  ages  of  faith  have  been  ages  of  lofiy 
enterprise,  of  heroic  daring,  of  sublime  achievement,  fruitful 
in  blessings  to  the  world;  while  ages  of  scepticism  have  been 
dark,  dreary,  and  barren,  passing  athwart  the  track  of  human 
history,  like  the  black  clouds  of  a  wintry  night — now  career- 
ing wildly  before  the  fury.of  the  storm,  now  drifting  along, 
cold,  sullen,  silent,  huge,  shapeless,  hiding  the  clear   vault  of 


THE   PROVINCE   OF   FAITH.  349 

heaven  above,  and  blackening  the  earth  with  their  portentous 
shadows. 

Yet  is  tliere  an  audacious  spirit  of  speculation  abroad,  which 
would  rob  us  of  our  faith  ;  and  along  with  our  faith  would 
rob  us  of  our  happiness,  our  moral  worth,  and  all  our  moral 
power.  It  was  to  rebuke  this  daring  spirit,  and  at  ihe  same 
time  to  chasten  and  cheer  the  hearts  of  all  humble  and  trem- 
bling believers,  that  our  Saviour  uttered  the  language  of  the 
text,  Ye  believe  in  God,  believe  also  in  me.  If  the  admoni- 
tion and  encouragement  vrere  needed  then,  much  more  are 
they  needed  now.  Ye  believe  in  God,  notwithstanding  all 
the  darkness  that  shrouds  him  from  human  vision,  notwitii- 
standing  the  unfathomable  mystery  that  overhangs  the  mode 
of  his  existence  and  baffles  at  every  point  all  human  investi- 
gation. Xotwitlistanding  all  the  difficulties  that  lie  in  the 
nature  of  the  subject,  and  those  which  ingenious  sophistry 
throws  around  it,  you  still  hold  fist  to  your  belief  in  God. 
You  cling  to  the  fact;  you  stand  upon  the  evidence;  you 
thrust  away  all  the  plausibilities  of  ingenious  and  delusive 
speculations;  and  still  believe  in  God. 

Our  Saviour's  requirement  is,  "  Believe  also  in  me."  The 
propositions  involved  in  this  requirement  would  seem  to  bo 
the  following:  first,  that  the  evidence  in  both  cases  is  the  same 
in  kind  and  equal  in  degree ;  secondly,  that  there  is  nothing 
more  difficult,  more  mysterious  or  incomprehensible,  proposed 
l»y  me,  than  you  already  believe ;  thirdly,  that  there  is  nothing 
more  miraculous  in  the  one  case  than  in  the  other;  fourthly, 
that  believing  in  God  as  you  do,  you  already  believe  in  every 
relation,  duty,  and  responsibility  which  I  inculcate ;  fifthly, 
that  believing  in  God,  you  are  necessarily  shut  up  to  faith  in 
me.  Because  there  is  no  other  refuge  for  a  sinner  from  God's 
justice,  and  from  everlasting  despair,  except  by  believing  in 
me.  "  For  I  am  the  way,  and  the  truth,  and  the  life;  no  man 
cometh  to  the  Father  but  by  me." 

I.  Consider,  first,  the  evidence.  No  man  hath  seen  God  at 
any  time,  or  heard  his  voice.  Invisible  to  human  eye,  unheard 
by  human  ear,  impalpable  to  human  sense,  inaccessible  wholly 


350  THE   PROYINCE   OF  FAITH. 

to  all  human  scrutiny,  he  dwells  in  his  own  immensity,  unap- 
proachable by  the  gaze  and  incomprehensible  to  the  under- 
standing of  man.  Yet  do  we  know  his  existence  from  the 
evidence  of  indubitable  facts — facts  that  lie  within  the  range 
of  human  inquiry,  and  from  which  our  conclusion  is  legiti- 
mately drawn,  with  intuitive  rapidity,  and  irresistible  convic- 
tion, on  the  ordinary  principles  of  human  reasoning.  Yet  is 
the  evidence  of  these  facts  only  Juiman  testimony.  All  nature, 
indeed,  yields  her  testimony,  and  science,  through  all  its  de- 
partments, brings  me  her  varied  contributions.  And  sweet  to 
the  Christian's  heart  and  sublime  is  the  harmony  of  that  loud 
and  universal  response,  which  thus  comes  from  nature  through- 
out all  her  provinces,  and  testifies  to  the  existence  and  attri- 
butes of  the  Great  Creator.  Yet,  let  us  never  forget,  that  it  is 
on  human  testimony  that  we  believe  each  one  of  these  sepa- 
rate facts,  which  startle  us  from  our  indiflference  ;  and,  by  their 
combined  and  accumulated  power,  absolutely  overwhelm  our 
understandings,  sweep  away  our  doubts,  and  leave  us  only 
awe  and  wonder  and  adoration. 

When  the  anatomist  points  you  to  the  wonders  of  the 
human  frame,  the  symmetry  of  its  fair  proj^ortions,  the  mutual 
adaptation  of  all  its  parts,  their  harmonious  combination  to- 
wards one  grand  result — the  life  and  health  of  the  human 
being ;  when  he  leads  you  through  all  that  intricate  machinery 
of  tubes  and  canals,  by  which  blood  is  distributed  through  all 
the  system ;  that  still  more  intricate  machinery  by  which 
nutrition  is  communicated  to  the  blood,  its  impurities  all  re- 
moved, and  it  returned  in  healthful  currents  to  stimulate  the 
heart,  and  to  pour  again  through  veins  and  arteries,  in  one 
living  torrent,  giving  hardness  to  the  muscles,  sensibility  to 
the  nerves,  incessant,  never-sleeping  energy  to  the  heart,  from 
which  it  issued;  when  he  points  to  the  exquisite  mechanism 
of  the  eye,  the  structure  of  the  ear,  the  lungs,  the  hand,  so 
admirably  adapted  to  be  the  instrument  of  an  intelligent  being, 
so  useless  to  all  beside ;  when  in  every  separate  portion,  and 
in  all  combined,  you  behold  traces  of  a  skill  surpassing  all 
human  wisdom,  and  which  all  past  centuries  have  not  sufficed 


THE   PROVINCE   OF  FAITH.  351 

to  exhaust  by  their  investigations — remember,  it  is  on]j  humcoi 
testimony  which  you  have  heard,  and  on  this  hwnroi  testimony 
you  have  based  your  sublime  and  irresistible  conclusion. 

When  the  astronomer'takes  his  adventurous  journey  through 
the  skies,  and  returns  with  his  prodigies  of  discovery ;  tells 
you  of  world  after  world  as  they  wheel  through  the  immensity 
of  space ;  of  system  after  system  as  they  pass  in  rapid  and 
dazzling  succession ;  of  great  globes  of  light  hung  out  there 
in  the  blue  ether,  self-poised,  pursuing  their  eternal  flight; 
when  he  shows  you  a  whole  universe  apparently  rushing  to  its 
ruin — planets  oscillating  from  side  to  side  on  their  axis — their 
orbits  for  a  hundred  centuries  expanding,  then  contracting  in 
apparent  lawlessness — and  then  shows  how  each  is  poised, 
against  the  other,  so  that  all  these  irregularities  correct  them- 
selves— how  in  the  mighty  march  of  the  universe  all  things 
return  once  more  to  the  point  from  which  they  started ;  and 
when  overwhelmed  by  the  magnitude  of  the  scheme,  and  lost 
amidst  the  intricacy  of  its  movements,  you  fall  down  in 
wonder  and  adoration  before  the  inscrutable  wisdom  that 
formed  them  all  at  first,  assigned  them  their  magnitudes  and 
relative  positions,  gave  the  first  impulse  to  their  movements, 
and  still  keeps  up  from  century  to  century,  through  incalcu- 
lable millions  of  years,  the  play  of  this  wonderful  machinery — 
remember  it  is  on  the  strength  of  hwncui  testimony  you  ac- 
credit all  these  marvels. 

When  the  geologist  penetrates  the  abysses  of  the  earth,  and 
tells  you  of  buried  species  piled  layer  above  layer  many 
fathoms  deep — the  sepulchres  and  the  memorials  of  an  earlier 
world;  and  pointing  to  the  structure  of  all  their  parts,  shows 
that  one  grand,  design,  one  stupendous  purpose,  one  all-pervad- 
ing, all-controlling,  all-providing  intelligence  is  seen  through 
all  the  immeasurable  cycles  of  the  geologic  ages — remember 
this  too  is  only  human  testimony.  They  present  the  facts,  you 
draw  the  conclusion  only. 

Xow  it  does  not  signify  to  say,  "  many  an  humble  and  un- 
lettered man  believes  in  the  existence  of  God  without  all  this 
testimony."     He  believes  it,  because  he  cannot  help  it.     It  is 


352  THE   PROVINCE   OF   FAITH. 

spontaneous,  intuitive,  conviction  from  all  he  sees  around  him 
and  feels  within  him.  The  unlettered  Christian  has  the  same 
inward  and  intviitive  conviction,  draws  instinctively  the  same 
intidtive,  and  rapid,  and  irresistible  conclusion,  as  to  the  reali- 
ties of  the  Gospel.  And  here  they  are  on  a  par.  But  I  speak 
of  that  conviction  which  is  the  result  of  scientific  investiga- 
tion, and  here^  after  all,  their  belief  of  all  the  facts  is  based  on 
human  testimony.  You  never,  perhaps,  witnessed  the  anatomy 
of  a  sint;le  sul»ject ;  or  saw  a  single  experiment  in  chemistry ; 
or  gaz^id  through  a  tele>;cope ;  or  calculated  the  orbit  of  a 
planet — n:iy,  of  all  the  distinguished  scientific  men  on  earth, 
how  few  have  gazed  through  Lord'Rosse's  telescope,  or  ob- 
served the  stars  in  the  southern  hemisphere,  or  performed 
half  the  analyses  in  chemistry;  yet  on  the  faith  of  human  tes- 
timony, we  credit  all  those  prodigies  of  science,  so  remote 
from  all  the  appearances  of  daily  life.  And  why?  Because 
there  is  no  motive  conceivable  to  induce  so  many  men  to 
combine  in  a  conspiracy  to  deceive  the  w^:>rld.  It  would  sub- 
vert all  the  laws  of  evidence,  reverse  all  tlie  principles  of 
human  nature  with  which  we  are  acquainted,  while  confes- 
sedly we  are  not  acquainted  with  the  infinite  possibilities  of 
things. 

Such  is  the  testimony  for  the  facts  of  the  Gospel — the  mira- 
cles and  resurrection  of  the  Saviour.  Nay,  this  is  far  more 
conclusive.  Have  astronomers  been  called  to  seal  their  testi- 
mony with  their  blood?  Yet  the. apostles,  and  thousands  be- 
sides, in  the  earliest  ages,  laid  down  their  lives  in  attestation, 
not  of  opinions,  but  of  facts — of  miracles,  rej^eated  and  vari- 
ous, occurring  under  their  own  eyes,  appealing  to  their  senses. 
What  was  the  motive  to  deceive  ?  Did  they  not  peril  all — 
lose  all  ? 

Do  you  say,  we  see  around  us  now  the  evidences  of  God's 
agency  and  presence  in  the  magnificent  revolution  of  the  sea- 
sons ?  We  say,  so  it  is  in  Christianity.  We  see  its  mighty 
influences  on  human  society;  we  see  its  grand  fulfilment  ot 
prophecy. 

II.  The  evidence  is  equal.     Are  the  truths  proposed  more 


THE   PROVINCE   OF  FAITPI.  353 

mysterious  in  the  one  case  than  in  the  other  ?  PTere  let  us 
guard,  in  the  outset,  against  a  natural  misapprehension.  We 
have  denounced  this  specuhition  as  audacious.  Let  us  not  be 
mistaken.  We  are  not  of  the  number  of  those  who  denounce 
all  specnlation.  Men  always  have  speculated,  always  will,  al- 
ways must,  always  ought  to  speculate.  It  is  the  natural,  in- 
stinctive tendency  of  the  human  mind,  the  source  of  a'l  our 
discoveries,  to  pass  from  the  known  fact  to  its  unknown  cause. 
Every  man,  every  cliild  has  his  little  speculation.  The  very 
men  who  object  against  it,  present  their  own  speculations  as 
an  argument.  The  inquisitor  thinks  he  may  denounce  all 
thought,  reasons  against  the  right  to  reason,  and  gives  his  own 
decisive  judgment  against  tbe  right  of  judgment.  The  only 
remedy  for  erroneous  speculation,  is  to  speculate  aright.  The 
only  remedy  for  a  false  philosopliy,  said  a  departed  fither  of 
our  church,  is  a  true  philosophy.  Our  objection  to  this  au- 
dacious speculation  is,  that  it  is  false  and  childish,  that  it  has 
not  learned  the  first  lesson  of  a  true  philosophy — the  appropri- 
ate objects  and  true  limits  of  human  inquiry;  and  that  it 
seeks  to  overleap  the  boundaries  wisely  assigned  to  all  human, 
and,  we  believe,  to  all  created  intelligence,  and  wastes  in  se;irch 
of  unattainnble  knowledge  the  energies  designed  for  subjects 
that  lie  within  the  limits  of  the  human  faculties. 

The  first  lesson  of  a  true  philosophy  is  humility.  Its  earlie-t 
utterance,  handed  dovrn  to  us  from  the  father  of  philosophy 
in  Greece,  is  an  acknowledgment  of  total  ignorance  in  all 
that  relates  to  the  ultimate  nature  and  essential  elements  of 
things.  All  human  rensoning  terminates  at  last  in  some  first 
principles,  admitted  by  all,  and  which  can  be  proven  and  ex- 
])lained  by  none.  All  physical  inquiry  lands  us  at  last  in  some 
ultimate  fact,  too  simple  to  be  analyzed,  too  clear  to  be  illus- 
trated, too  plain  to  be  proven  ;  which  shines  by  its  own  self- 
evidencing  light,  and  of  which  we  can  learn  nothing  but  that 
it  stands  alone  there  in  its  inscrutable  mystery.  Such  are  all 
the  great  facts  in  nature  to  which  we  proudly  give  the  name 
of  laws. 

Xay,    were  we  endowed   with   senses  that  could  penetrate 


354  THE   PROVIXCE   OF   FAITH. 

the  inward  structure  of  things,  and  see  the  particles  of  matt( " 
in  their  primordial  elements,  it  has  been  proven,  that  still  their 
movements  v^^ould  be  shrouded  in  mystery  to  us,  and  we  could 
know  nothing  but  the  facts.  "  All  tiiere  is,  is  mystery,"  says 
the  subtlest  thinker  of  our  age,  "  or  nothing  is  mystery."  In 
this  sense  the  whole  universe  with  all  its  parts  is  one  vast 
mystery.  The  heaven  and  the  earth,  the  stars  as  they  move 
and  shine,  are  all  mysterious.  Their  motions  are  a  mystery, 
their  light  a  mystery.  The  flowers  as  they  grow,  the  human 
body  and  human  spirit  separately,  how  mysterious,  and  in  their 
union,  a  reduplicated  mystery !  What  these  scientific  thinkers 
call  an  explanation,  is  but  a  removal  of  the  mystery;  or  rather 
a  multiplication  of  the  mysteries  to  be  solve<l.  It  is  but  the 
tracing  of  one  fact,  which  cannot  be  explained,  to  another,  or 
to  many  other  facts,  equally  inexplicable  ;  and  then,  after  mul- 
tiplying the  mystery,  crying  out  that  it  is  explained.  For  ex- 
ample, you  see  a  star  millions  of  miles  off.  How  do  you  see 
it,  and  know  what  it  is?  The  explanation  traces  it  on  from 
fact  to  fact ;  each  needs  explanation ;  and  at  last,  the  great 
fact  remains  untouched,  that  the  mind  perceives,  by  some  in- 
explicable process,  the  distant  star.  You  have  not  approached^ 
a  comprehension  of  the  process.  Such,  then,  is  that  boasting 
and  supercilious  philosophy  which  comes,  with  great  swellini>' 
words  of  vanity,  to  rob  us  of  our  faith.  It  has  not  learned 
the  first  elements  of  true  reasoning. 

Thus  do  we  see  that  in  whatever  direction  we  turn  our 
thoughts,  above,  beneath,  around,  within,  all  is  mystery — 
mystery  in  the  great  worlds  above  us,  in  their  light  and  their 
motions — mystery  in  the  minutest  particles  of  matter,  in 
their  attractions  and  repulsions,  their  combinations  and  de- 
composition. In  all  vegetable  and  animal  life,  its  nature  -and 
its  origin,  in  the  human  body  with  all  its  varied  functions, 
and  the  human  spirit  with  its  inscrutable  powers,  there  is 
mystery.  The  whole  universe  is  one  great  mystery — one 
temple  of  the  Gj-eat  Invisible,  whose  mysteries  we  cannot 
penetrate,  where  the  learned  and  the  ignorant  alike  can  only 
stand  and  wonder  and  adore — with  a  wonder  the  more  pro- 


Till-:  rROVixcE  of  faith.  355 

•blind,  and  an  adoration  tlie  more  devout  and  reverential,  as 
truth  after  truth  bursts  upon  the  awed  understnnding,  and  re* 
veals  to  humnn  ignorance  fresh  glimpses  of  that  immensity 
"svliich  sweeps  boundlessly  away  beyond  the  reach  of  man's  in- 
vestigation. "  I  am  but  a  little  child,"  said  he,  who  first 
fathomed  those  spheres  hitherto  unfathomable,  and  converted 
those  sparkling  ornaments  of  our  night  into  worlds  of  im- 
measurable glory,  "  I  am  but  a  little  child,  standing  on  the 
shore  of  the  great  ocean  of  truth,  and  gathering  a  i'ew  pebbles 
to  show  to  my  companions."  What  that  pebble  is  to  the 
ocean  on  whose  shore  it  lies,  to  the  globe  which  holds  that 
ocean  in  its  bosom,  to  the  sun  which  holds  that  globe  in  its 
orbit,  to  the  universe  in  which  that  sun  itself,  with  all  its  at- 
tendant worlds,  is  but  a  point  invisible — such  is  this  whole 
universe  to  the  immeusity  of  God.  What,  then,  must  be  the 
mystery  of  his  nature  !  Surely  the  man  who  has  received  the 
idea  of  a  God,  who  has  analyzed  it  into  all  its  component  ele- 
ments, who  has  grasped  in  it  all  its  vast  proportions — surely 
he  has  already  accepted  the  greatest  of  all  conceivable  mys- 
teries; and  nothing  more  remains  which  can  baffle  the  keen- 
ness of  his  sagacious  scrutiny,  or  revolt  the  delicacy  of  his  all- 
embracing  faith. 

For,  tell  me,  what  is  your  conception  of  a  God?  God  is  a 
spirit.  But  what  is  a  spirit  ?  Jt  has  no  parts  or  proportions; 
it  has  no  form  or  magnitude ;  it  has  no  diuiensions  or  color. 
There  is  nothing  in  the  whole  universe  around  which  re- 
sembles it,  nothing  analogous  to  it,  nothing  to  aid  us  in  form- 
ing a  conception  of  it.  But,  you  say,  the  spirit  is  that  which 
feels,  and  thinks,  and  hopes,  and  fears — that  which  is  capable 
of  all  these  various  emotions,  and  remains  unchanged  amidst 
the  fugitive  variety  of  its  changing  states.  You  tell  me  what 
it  does.  I  ask  you  what  it  is  ^  And  I  ask  in  vain.  For  he  who 
has  studied  it  the  longest  and  the  most  profoundly,  will  be  the 
last  to  venture  a  reply.  Its  phenomena  I  know  ;  for  of  these 
I  am  conscious.  Bnt  that  mysterions  essence,  of  which  these 
phenomena  are  the  varied  manifestation,  and  shrouding  which 
they   yet  appear  to  reveal — what  is   that?      "What  is  the 


356  THE   PROVIXCE   OF   FAITH. 

soul  ? "  once  asked  a  thoughtful  iuqiurer  of  liis  fiiend.  "  I 
know  nothing  of  it,"  was  the  reply,  "  except  tliat  it  is  imma- 
terial and  immortal."  "  Let  us  ask  Fontenelle,"  rejoined  the 
inquirer.  "  Ah,"  said  he,  "he  is  the  last  man  in  the  world  to 
ask ;  for  he  has  too  much  sense  to  know  anything  more  about 
it  than  you  or  I." 

It  has  been  from  my  earliest  boyhood,  the  employment  and 
the  pleasure  of  my  life,  to  seek  to  fathom,  if  possible,  this 
mystery  of  man's  immaterial  spirit,  and  to  comprehend  some- 
thing of  its  nature ;  but  after  all  my  reflections,  and  all  the  in- 
vestigations of  others,  the  conviction  has  become  every  day 
the  profounder  and  the  more  intense,  of  that  unfathomable 
mystery  which  must  forever  encompass  a  deathless  spirit.  A 
simple,  primitive  conception,  it  declines  the  scrutiny  of  the 
senses,  eludes  the  grasp  of  the  imagination,  defies  the  analysis 
of  logic;  and  when  you  question  it,  its  only  answer  is,  that 
which  its  great  Author  gave — "I  am  that  I  am."  It  stands 
alone,  grand,  solemn,  peculiar,  shrouded  in  its  own  impene- 
trable mystery. 

But  God,  you  say,  is  the  great  First  Cause,  the  oreat  Creative 
Spirit.  But  what  is  creation?  When  did  he  create?  How 
did  he  create?  Can  you  describe  the  process ?  Here,  too,  all 
earthly  analogies  fail  us.  The  mechanic,  indeed,  may  hew  his 
timber  into  form,  may  mould  it  into  beanty,  and  polish  it  to 
brightness.  The  sculptor,  by  a  yet  superior  skill,  may  take 
the  rude  marble  from  the  quarry,  and  shape  it  into  the  dead 
resemblance  of  a  living  man.  Nay,  by  the  strange  magic  of 
his  art,  he  may  breathe  an  illusive  reality  over  the  whole,  may 
give  to  the  form  all  the  grace  of  beauty,  and  to  the  brow  the 
majesty  of  genius,  till  the  love  of  the  mighty  dead  shall  live 
again  to  the  imagination  and  almost  to  the  eye.  But  these 
have  the  materials  on  which  they  operate,  the  instruments  with 
which  they  work.  Here,  however,  there  are  no  instruments 
or  materials  with  which,  and  on  which,  to  begin  the  work  of 
creation.  Do  you  say,  he  called  all  things  out  of  nothing? 
But  what  is  nothing?  Has  it  any  existence?  And  if  it  had, 
were  all  things  contained  from  eternity  in  its  bosom,  to  leap 


THE   PROVT^'CK   OF   FAITH.  ^57 

forth  into  being  at  his  Omnipotent  fiat?  View  it  in  whatever 
form  you  may — cast  it  into  any  form  of  human  expression — 
shape  it  to  any  mouhl  of  thouoht— it  is,  at  last,  a  primitive,  in- 
definable conception,  too  simple  to  be  analyzed,  too  peculiar  to 
be  illustrated  from  any  other  source.  It  remains,  and  ever 
must  remain,  an  original,  isolated,  sublime  reality,  to  be  ac- 
cepted on  its  OAvn  appropriate  evidence  as  an  inexplicable  fact. 

But  God  is  a  spirit,  infinite,  immutable,  eternal,  omniscient, 
omnipresent,  almighty.  It",  then,  it  is  so  difiicult  to  form  any 
conception  of  a  finite  spirit  like  our  own,  how  does  the  difii- 
culty  increase,  and  the  perplexities  multiply,  when  you  pro- 
ject your  conception  of  a  s]»irit  into  infinity,  expand  it  over 
eternity,  diftuse  it  through  immensity  ;  and  thus  add  to  its  in- 
herent difficulties,  every  other  element  most  incommensurable 
with  the  powers  of  the  human  undeistanding.  Eternity — 
what  is  the  eternity  of  God  ?  Will  you  first  tell  us,  what  is 
time  ?  All  past  ages,  with  their  combined  powers  of  investi- 
gation, have  sought  to  give  the  answer,  and  have  sought  in 
vain.  "Time,"  says  the  latest  transcendental  philosopher,  "is 
nothi!ig  in  things  themselves,  or  in  events,  or  in  their  relations. 
Time  is  a  form  of  human  thought."  "  Time,"  says  the  most 
subtle  thinker  who  has  written  in  the  English  language  for 
half  a  century,  "Time  is  nothing  in  things  or  in  events; 
time  is  the  relation  of  priority  and  succession  between  events." 
That  is  eqnivalent  to  saying — time  is  time.  Most  luminously 
spoken !  Surely  wisdom  will  die  with  the  luminaries  of  our 
benighted  race  !  "  Time,"  it  is  said,  "  is  the  relation  of  priority 
and  succession  in  events."  But  what  is  a  relation  ?  Can  you 
define  it?  The  subtlest  analyst  of  human  thonght  in  our 
country  has  exhausted  all  his  ingenuity  in  the  eflbrt,  and  by 
universal  admission  has  most  signally  failed. 

But  if  it  be  so  difiicult  to  tell  what  lime  is,  what  shall  we 
say  of  eternity  ?  Here  modern  science,  with  all  her  multiplied 
discoveries,  comes  to  our  assistance ;  but  comes  in  vain.  In 
vain  do  we  strive  to  clamber  upward,  step  by  step,  on  that  ladder 
of  ascent,  which  reaches  from  heaven  to  earth,  and  from  earih 
back  to  heaven,  whose  lowest  round  is  upon  the  eaith,  while 


358  THE   PROVINCE   OF   FAITH. 

its  summit  rests  upon  tlie  throne  of  the  Eternal,  and  is  lost  to 
our  view  amidst  the  invisibilities  of  that  awful  throne.  Reason 
reels  beneath  the  weight  of  her  own  stupendous  discoveries, 
and  imagination  falters  on  wearied  wing,  as  she  expatiates 
amidst  those  millions  of  ages,  which,  when  multiplied  by  other 
millions,  are  not  the  sum,  but  the  commencement  of  eternity. 
Our  brief  year,  and  still  briefer  day,  are  measured  out  by  annual 
and  diurnal  revolutions  of  the  earth.  Five  hundred  of  our 
years  would  scarce  suffice  to  measure  the  period  of  revolution, 
in  its  eccentric  orbit  of  one  of  our  best-known  comets.  One 
thousand  of  our  years  would  be  but  a  single  year  in  the  dis- 
tant planet  of  our  own  little  system.  Eighteen  hundred  mil- 
lions of  years  is  the  period  assigned  by  the  greatest  astrono- 
mers of  our  day  for  the  revolution  of  our  sun,  in  its  amazing 
orbit  around  its  distant  centre,  in  the  farthest  heavens.  But 
in  vain  do  we  add  millions  upon  millions,  and  multiply  these 
again  by  other  millions,  in  the  effort  to  grasp  eternity.  In 
vain  do  we  summon  to  our  aid  all  the  powers  of  calculation, 
and  let  imagination  loose,  to  rise  from  summit  to  summit  in 
this  sublime  and  perilous  ascent.  For,  after  all,  this  is  not  eter- 
nity. That  sun  began  to  shine.  These  revolutions  are  not  of 
eternity.  And  when  the  soul  of  man,  of  higher  and  nobler 
elements  tlian  the  sun  himself,  and  destined  for  a  far  more 
magnificent  career,  sweeps  backward  in  thought  beyond  the 
hour  when  suns  began  to  shme,  behold  she  stands  amidst  eter- 
nity. Behind  her  are  the  ages  of  the  eternity  past;  before 
her  is  the  eternity  of  ages  yet  to  come.  Around,  above,  be- 
neath, on  every  side,  stretches  tar  away,  in  its  silent  and 
solemn  grandeur,  the  immensity  which  is  the  dwelling-place  of 
God.  No  sun,  no  stars  of  light,  no  moon,  no  day,  no  night, 
no  revolutions  of  the  spheres  are  here.  No  voice  or  form  of 
man,  or  angel,  is  seen  or  heard  amid  the  void  and  voiceless 
infinite. 

Who  can  comprehend  this  immensity  !  Our  modern  science 
expands  our  views,  and  elevates  our  conceptions,  and  seems  to 
invite  us  to  the  effort.  But  it  is  only  to  show  us  the  nothing- 
ness of  man,  in  comparison  with  the  infinitude  of  God.     The 


THE   PROVINCE   OF   FAITH.  359 

smallest  of  those  intervals,  with  which  our  astronomy  is  con- 
versant, stretches  immeasurably  beyond  our  utmost  powers  of 
conception,  leaving  us  to  wonder  that  our  geometry  can  de- 
monstrate what  our  imagination  cannot  grasp.  One  hundied 
millions  of  miles  is  about  the  interval  which  separates  us  from 
our  sun.  One  thousand  times  that  distance  will  not  bring  ns 
to  the  last-discovered  planet  of  our  little  system.  When  w^e 
attempt  to  ascertain  the  distance  of  one  of  those  fixed  stars, 
that  are  visible  by  millions,  in  our  sky,  we  find  that  tlie  diame- 
ter of  the  earth's  orbit  around  the  sun — two  hundred  millions 
of  miles  in  length— is  too  short  for  the  base-line  of  such  a  meas- 
urement ;  that  the  lines,  drawn  from  each  extremity  of  this  pro- 
digious length,  run  up  into  each  other,  and  the  angle  they  in- 
close absolutely  vanishes,  as  if  they  issued  from  a  single  point. 
!N'ow,  transport  yourself  in  imagination  to  such  a  star  as  this. 
As  you  pass  onward  and  upward,  tlie  moon  soon  fades,  the 
planets  disappear,  the  sun  diminishes,  grows  dim,  twinkles  as 
a  bright  spot  in  the  distant  heavens.  A  new  firmament  is  now 
above  your  head.  New  constellations  shed  their  radiance  on 
your  pathway.  The  order  of  these  lower  heavens  is  reversed. 
Suns  revolve  around  suns  in  gorgeous  magnificence,  and  pour 
their  radiance  on  your  head,  where  all  the  colors  of  the  rain- 
bow meet,  in  varied  combination,  as  if  the  broad  arch  of  hea- 
ven were  one  perpetual  memorial  of  love  and  safety,  sent  from 
the  Father  of  lights  to  his  unfallen  oflfspring. 

Astronomers,  who  have  looked  through  the  best  constructed 
of  our  modern  telescopes,  assure  us  that  the  first  emotion  of 
all  beholders  is  one  wild  gush  of  ecstaoy  and  wonder,  mount- 
ing up  to  almost  delirious  joy,  and  subsiding  finally  into  a  calm 
and  solemn  exaltation  of  soul,  awed  by  the  surpassing  gran- 
deur of  the  scene,  yet  expanded  and  elevated  by  the  very 
grandeur  that  subdues  and  overwhelms.  Standing  now  in  one 
of  those  uppermost  worlds,  with  the  keener  vision  and  superior 
instruments  w^hich  they  may  enjoy,  let  us  sweep  the  w^liole 
heaven  of  heavens  in  one  rapid  and  magnificent  survey.  Yet 
far  beyond  the  reach  of  eye  or  telescope,  beyond  the  range  of 
angel  vision  or  angel  flight,  stretches  inimitably  on  the  im- 


360  THE    PROYIXCE   OF   FAITH. 

rceiisity  of  God's  creation,  witli  new  families  of  worlds,  new 
forms  of  existeiice,  new  sources  of  enjoyment,  new  methods 
of  administration,  new  firmaments  of  glory,  each  separate,  yet 
all  united ;  formed  by  one  wisdom,  upheld  by  one  power,  per- 
vaded by  one  presence,  sul>ordin.ited  to  one  high  purpose,  and 
ultimately,  in  one  grand  result,  iiui<led  by  one  supreme  intel.i- 
gence.  Stupendous  eternity !  Infinite  complexity !  Oh,  the 
depths  of  the  riches,  both  of  the  wisdom  and  knowledge  of 
God!  How  unsearchable  are  his  judgments,  and  his  ways 
past  finding  out !  Lo  !  these  are  parts  of  his  ways ;  yet  how 
faint  is  the  whisper  we  have  heard  of  him.  But  the  full  thun- 
der of  his  power,  who  can  understand?  Canst  thou  then,  by 
searching,  find  out  God ;  canst  thou  find  out  the  Almighty  to 
perfection  ?  Behold,  it  is  higher  than  heaven ;  what  canst 
thou  know  ?  It  is  deeper  than  hell ;  what  canst  thou  do  ?  The 
measure  thereof  is  wider  than  the  earth,  and  broader  than  the 
sea.  Lift  up  your  eyes  on  high;  and  behold,  who  hath  created 
these  things;  that  bringeth  out  their  host  by  number.  He 
calleth  them  all  by  name ;  by  reason  of  tlie  greatness  of  his 
might;  for  that  he  is  strong  in  power,  not  one  faileth.  He 
sitteth  on  the  circle  of  tlie  earth ;  and  hath  measured  the 
ocean  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand  ;  and  hath  meted  out  the 
heavens  witii  a  span  ;  and  co!nprehended  the  dust  of  the  earth 
in  a  measure  ;  and  weighed  the  mountains  in  scales,  and  the 
hills  in  a  balance.  To  whom  then  will  ye  liken  me,  or  shall  I 
be  equal,  saith  the  Holy  One  ?  Gird  up  thyself  now  like  a 
man,  and  answer  me.  When  I  laid  the  foundations  of  the 
earth,  where  wast  thou  ?  When  I  stretched  out  the  heavens 
over  emptiness,  and  hung  the  earth  on  nothing;  when  the 
morning  stars  sang  together,  and  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for 
joy ;  when  I  shut  up  the  sea  with  doors,  and  set  bai-s  :md  bolts, 
and  said,  thus  far  shalt  thou  come,  and  no  farther ;  and  here 
shall  thy  proud  waves  be  stayed.  Canst  thou  bind  the  sweet 
influences  of  Pleiades;  or  loose  the  bands  of  Orion  ?  Canst 
thou  bring  forth  Mazzaroth  in  his  season  ;  or  canst  thou  guide 
Arcturus  with  his  sons  ?  Hast  thou  an  arm  like  God  ?  Canst 
tliou  thunder  with  a  voice  like  his?     Be  still  then,  and  know 


THE   PROVINCE   OF   FAITH.  361 

that  I  am  God.  Before  tlie  mountains  were  brought  forth,  or 
ever  thou  hadst  formed  the  earth  and  the  world,  even  from 
everlasting  to  everlasting,  thou  art  God.  They  shall  perish, 
but  thou  remainest.  They  shall  all  wax  old,  as  doth  a  gar- 
ment, and  as  a  vesture  shalt  thou  fold  them  up ;  and  they  shall 
be  changed.  But  thou  art  the  same  ;  from  eternity  to  eternity, 
still  unchanged ;  without  variableness  or  shadow  of  turning, 
the  first  and  the  last,  the  begimiing  and  the  end,  the  omnis- 
cient, the  omnipresent,  the  Almighty.  Oh,  whither  shall  I  go 
from  thy  Spirit ;  or  whither  shall  I  liee  from  thy  presence?  If 
I  ascend  up  into  heaven  ;  thou  art  there.  If  I  make  my  bed 
in  hell ;  behold  thou  art  there.  If  I  take  the  wings  of  the 
morning,  and  dwell  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea;  even 
there  shall  thy  hand  lead  me,  and  thy  right  hand  shall  hold 
me.  If  I  say,  surely  the  darkness  shall  cover  me ;  even  the 
night  shall  be  light  about  me.  The  darkness  and  the  light  are 
both  alike  to  thee.  Thou  hast  beset  me  before,  and  behind, 
and  laid  thine  hand  upon  me. 

Well  might  the  inspired  psalmist  exclaim,  "  Such  knowledge 
is  too  wonderful  for  me  ;  it  is  high,  I  cannot  attain  unto  it." 
And  who  can  comprehend  the  height,  or  the  depth,  or  the 
length,  or  the  breadth,  of  these  amazing  attributes — the  om- 
niscience that  includes  things  that  are  not,  as  well  as  things 
that  are,  all  things  that  shall  be,  and  might  be,  as  well  as  those 
that  have  been — a  being  that  is  present  alike  through  all  time, 
and  all  space — through  all  time,  without  having  any  relation 
to  time,  and  all  space,  without  relation  to  space — present  at 
every  moment  of  time  and  each  point  in  space,  not  by  a  dis- 
tribution of  his  powers,  but  in  the  absolute  totality  of  all  his 
amazing  attributes,  in  the  full  intensity  of  his  whole  undivided 
essence,  lavishing  all  the  resources  of  his  eternal  wisdom  and 
almighty  power,  as  truly  when  he  gilds  the  wing  of  an  insect, 
or  pencils  the  leaflet  of  a  flower,  as  when  he  creates  an  angel, 
kindles  a  sun,  or  upholds  the  universe. 

Ye  believe  in   God ;  believe  also  in  me.     If  ye  believe  in 
God,  as  manifested  in  the  works  of  creation ;  believe  in  him 
likewise  as  manifested  in  the  person  of  his  Son.     Do  you  ask 
16 


oG2  THE   PROYINCE   OF   FAITH. 

me  to  explain  the  nature  and  mode  of  that  connection  which 
exists  between  the  infinite  Creator,  and  a  finite  being,  the 
mystery  of  an  Incarnate  God  ?  I  answer  most  cheerfully,  if 
you  will  explain  the  nature  of  that  relation  which  he  bears  to 
all  around.  Know  you  not  that  he  is  present,  most  intimately, 
vitally,  essentially  present,  in  a  most  mysterious  and  inscru- 
table manner,  to  all  that  lives,  to  all  that  is?  He  is  present  in 
the  hidden  elements  of  matter,  present  in  all  the  operations  of 
mind  ;  present,  not  as  a  dead  abstraction,  but  as  a  living  power, 
pervading  all,  sustaining  all,  vivifying  all,  controlling,  direct- 
ing, limiting  all.  He  is  nearer  to  each  one  of  us,  than  our 
spirit  to  the  body  which  it  animates;  nearer  than  any  particle 
of  this  body  to  the  particle  immediately  adjoining,  with  an 
intimacy  of  relation  for  which  nature  has  no  illustration  ;  be"- 
cause  for  it  she  has  no  parallel  and  no  counterpart.  It  is  the 
relation  of  the  Creator  to  the  creatures  he  has  made,  of 
the  source  of  all  life  to  life  derived  from  him.  He  is  present 
in  the  ghnving  sun,  in  the  glittering  stars,  in  the  blossoming 
flowers.  He  rides  in  the  whirlwind,  thunders  in  the  storm ; 
foresees  all^without  forcing  any;  reigns  sovereign  controller 
amidst  the  freedom  of  human  agency,  and  causes  the  folly  and 
madness  of  man,  alike  to  accomplish  his  purposes  of  wisdom 
and  mercy.  In  him  we  live  and  move  and  have  our  being.  By 
him  were  all  things  created,  and  in  him  do  all  things  subsist. 
It  is  the  mysterious  relation  which  the  Creator  must  bear  to 
all  his  creatures  that  has  led  the  atheist  to  deny  the  existence 
of  a  God,  though  the  evidence  of  his  existence  is  everywhere 
around  us.  And  when  the  evidence  could  not  be  denied,  the 
pantheist,  in  turn,  has  been  led  thus  to  make  the  universe  a 
God,  and  all  its  various  parts  a  portion  of  the  universal  Deity, 
attributing  to  the  leaf  that  grows,  and  to  the  salt  that  crystal- 
lizes, the  wisdom  which  he  denies  to  the  supreme  intelligence. 
But  if  there  be  this  mysterious  connection  with  all,  why  may 
there  not  be  a  peculiar  connection,  though  equally  inexplicable, 
with  one  ?  If  God  is  intimately  present,  connected  with,  and 
manifest  in,  all  his  work,  what  is  there  unreasonable,  or  diffi- 
cult to  believe,  in  the  fact  that  he  becomes  incarnate  and  mani- 


THE   PROYINCE   OF   FAITH.  363 

fest  in  the  person  of. his  Son?  If  you  can  believe  in  the  God 
of  nature,  and  the  God  of  creation,  notwithstanding  all  the 
difficulties  and  tlie  mysteries  involved  in  such  a  belief;  where 
is  the  unreasonableness  of  believing  in  me  as  the  Incarnate 
One,  sent  to  redeem  the  world  from  sin;  and  of  believing  that 
God  is  ill  me,  reconciling  the  world  unto  liimself  ? 

Do  you  say,  I  object,  as  unreasonable,  to  such  a  union  of  God 
and  man  in  Christ,  as  constitutes  identity  of  person.  I  ask,  in 
reply,  if  you  have  solved  the  still  greater  difficulty  which  is 
presented  in  your  own  person  ?  If  the  union  of  spirit  with 
spirit,  in  harmonious  combination,  be  a  problem  too  difficult 
for  the  Divine  omnipotence,  what  say  you  to  the  union  of  an 
immaterial  spirit  and  a  material  body  in  man's  nature ;  of  a 
spirit  absolutely  one  and  simple,  wdth  a  body  whose  particles 
are  infinite  in  number ;  nay,  of  a  spirit  which  remains  perma- 
nently the  same,  with  particles  that  are  forever  changing;  and 
yet,  amidst  all  these  changes,  the  irresistible  consciousness  that 
there  is  constantly  the  self-same  person,  composed  of  material 
body,  and  an  immaterial  spirit  ?  Will  you  deny  your  own  iden- 
tity ?  Will  you  deny  that  you  have  a  body,  or  that  you  have 
a  soul  ?  How  body  is  connected  with  spirit,  we  do  not  know. 
The  fact,  that  they  are  connected,  we  do  know  and  believe,  how- 
ever inexplicable  ;  because  of  that  w^ehave  sufficient  evidence. 
How  the  Divine  nature  is  connected  with  the  human  in  the  per- 
son of  the  Saviour,  we  do  not  know.  This  is  not  offered  to  our 
belief.  Nor  does  it  demand  our  investigation.  The  fact  we 
receive,  as  any  other  fact,  on  the  authority  of  testimony. 
There  may  be  mystery  here,  if  you  please ;  but  it  is  the  mys- 
tery which  belongs  to  all  human  things,  overhangs  all  human 
knowledge,  and  is  inseparable  from  the  nature  and  limits  of 
the  human  faculties.  The  real  mystery  is,  that  men,  who  pro- 
fess to  think,  should  be  so  slow  to  learn  the  first  lesson  in  all 
true  reasoning— the  appropriate  objects  and  real  limits  of  hu- 
man knowledge — that  first  dictate  of  sound  philosopby  and 
common  sense,  and  earliest  result  of  all  experience,  that  we 
know,  and  can  know,  nothing  of  the  hidden  nature  and  essences 
of  things — that  facts  in  every  department  of  inquiry,  collected, 


364  THE   PROVIXCE   OF   FAITH. 

observed,  compared,  form  the  basis  and  whole  superstructure 
of  our  knowledge.  This  restless  and  prurient  inquiry  after 
the  bidden  essences  of  things,  mysterious  powers,  occult 
qualities,  as  distinct  from  the  facts  themselves,  was  the  pecu- 
liar folly  of  the  ancient  alchemists,  and  is  now  the  antiquated 
relic  of  an  exploded  system,  rejected  by  common  sense,  repu- 
diated by  sound  philosophy,  and  contradicted  by  the  uniform 
and  universal  experience  of  man.  Let  us  receive  the  great 
fact  of  God  m;inifested  in  our  nature,  as  we  receive  the  fact  of 
God  manifested  in  creation.  If  we  believe  in  God,  let  us  be- 
lieve in  Christ.  Let  us  believe  in  Christ,  even  as  we  believe 
in  God.  "  He  that  hath  seen  me,"  said  the  Saviour,  "  hath 
seen  the  Father.  Believe  me  that  I  am  in  the  Fatr.er,  and  the 
Father  in  me;  or  else  believe  me  for  the  very  \vorks'  sake.'' 


XIX. 

HOW  LIFE  IS  TO  BE  IMPROVED. 


Psalm  xc.  12. — "So  teach  us  to  number  our  clays,  that  we  may  apply  our 
liearts  unto  "wasdom." 


This  Psalm  is  called  "  A  prayer  of  i\Ioses,  tlie  man  of  God.'' 
It  was  probably  written  on  the  borders  of  Canaan,  when  the 
Jews  had  just  finished  their  long  and  dreary  wanderings 
through  that  great  and  terrible  wilderness,  and  were  about  to 
enter  upon  the  inheritance  so  long  promised  to  their  fathers, 
and  so  long  deferred,  even  till  the  heart  was  sick,  for  the  sins 
of  thtiY  descendants.  It  would  be  difficult  to  conceive  any  cir- 
cumstances more  affecting  than  those  under  which  this  Psalm 
was  compose^!.  The  aged  and  venerable  servant  of  Gol  had 
outlived  all  his  cotemporaries.  He  had  seen  them  all  pursued 
by  that  fierce  threat  of  God  which,  the  apostle  informs  us,  is 
sharper  than  any  two-edged  sword,  and  falling  in  the  wilder- 
ness beneath  its  unseen  but  terrible  energy.  One  had  been 
swallowed  up  with  Korah  and  his  companions ;  another  had 
been  bitten  by  the  fiery  serpents,  whose  burning  poison  ran  like 
molten  lead  through  ever}^  vein,  till  every  nerve  was  wrung 
with  intensest  agony,  and  every  muscle  wms  parched  and  with- 
ere<l  by  the  heat,  and  the  waters  of  life  were  dried  up  at  once 
in  the  system,  or  oozed  slowly  and  lingeringly  and  painfully 
away.  Another  has  drngged  his  wearied  limbs  over  the  tedious 
pilgrimage  thiough  that  trackless  desert,  still  cheering  himself 
with  the  thought  of  Canaan  and  the  vain  hope  that  the  Al- 
mighty would  relent;  until,  at  last,  flesh  and  heart  have  failed 
together,  and  the  delusive  hope  on  which  he  had  so  long  leaned 


366  HOV/  LIFE   IS  TO   BE   IMPROYED. 

is  gone,  and  he  sinks  down,  exhausted  and  desperate,  npon  the 
sands  of  the  hot  desert. 

And  where  is  she,  who  liad  hung  upon  his  arm  that  fearful 
night  when  they  were  thrust  out  from  Egypt ;  who  pressed  still 
closer  to  his  side,  as  alarm  and  danger  threatened,  and  gazed 
so  wishfully  upon  his  manly  face,  to  reassure  her  trembling 
spirit?  Ah  !  who  so  fit  to  minister  in  his  last  agony,  and  hy 
the  gentlest  consolations  soothe  his  departed  spirit,  as  she  who 
was  the  cherished  object  of  his  earliest  and  tenderest  affections  ? 
But  long  ere  this  her  feeble  frame  had  sunk  exhausted  beneath 
the  labors  and  privations  of  their  pilgrimage ;  and  the  mighty 
host,  hardened  by  perpetual  scenes  of  distress,  and  rendered 
intensely  selfish  by  the  consciousness  of  danger,  to  which  they 
were  perpetually  exposed,  had  swept  on  regardless  of  her 
groans  and  dying.  Thus  it  was  that,  one  by  one,  they  had  all 
fallen  in  the  wilderness,  hewn  down  by  the  unseen  but  terrible 
sword  of  the  Lord,  until  of  all  that  mighty  host  who  had  marched 
out  of  Egypt,  in  the  vigor  of  health  and  the  pride  of  triumph, 
and  had  lifted  up  their  voices  to  murmur  against  the  Lord  in 
the  wilderness,  there  was  none  remaining;  and  the  venerated 
leader  and  legislator  of  the  Jews,  in  the  decline  of  life,  bereft 
of  all  the  companions  of  his  youth,  gazed  around  him  in  deso- 
late loneliness  of  heart,  and  stood  amidst  the  tribes  of  Israel 
as  the  aged  and  solitary  oak,  leafless  and  branchless,  and  almost 
lifeless,  amidst  the  strewed  and  shattered  forest  which  the 
tempest  has  uprooted  in  its  fury. 

It  was  under  circumstances  such  as  these  that  the  afllicted 
servant  of  the  Lord  composed  the  affecting  and  touching  Psalm 
of  which  our  text  forms  a  part.  It  is  a  pathetic  lamentation 
over  the  shortness  of  human  life,  and  a  prayer  for  grace  or 
wisdom  to  improve  it  to  the  best  advantage.  He  contrasts 
with  the  shortness  of  human  life  the  eternity  of  God's  exist- 
ence. He  leads  us  away  from  the  contemplation  of  our  short 
and  transitory  existence  here,  into  the  depths  of  that  unfathom- 
able and  mysterious  eternity  which  is  the  dwelling-place  of 
God,  whose  ever-rolling  years  move  on  unceasingly,  without 
beginning  and  without  an  end,  reaching  back  immeasurably 


HOW  LIFE   IS  TO   BE    IMPROVED.  3G7 

beyond  the  creation  of  these  heavens  and  this  eartl),  and 
stretcliing  forward  far  beyond  the  period  when  the  earth  shall 
be  dissolved  by  lire  and  the  heavens  shall  be  rolled  together  as 
a  scroll,  and  all  the  magnificence  and  all  the  glory  of  this  ma- 
terial creation  shall  disappear  forever. 

How  humbling,  and  yet  how  salutary,  is  the  contrast  thus 
presented  between  the  duration  of  a  day  on  earth,  and  the 
long,  long  lapse  of  those  revolving  ages  which  measure  out  the 
immeasurable  periods  of  eternity.  And  even  when  we  gaze 
upon  the  scenes  around  us,  how  deep  and  solemn  is  the  im- 
pression of  the  brevity  of  life.  The  sun,  which  day  ]>y  day 
awakens  us  into  new  life,  and  pours  over  all  around  the  efful- 
gence of  his  glory,  has  rolled  on  for  centuries  as  he  does  now, 
and  has  seen  a  thousand  generations  rising  and  flourishing  for 
a  season  in  his  beams,  and  then  sinking  down  into  the  darkness 
of  the  tomb.  The  green  fields  over  which  we  sported  in  the 
playfulness  of  infanc}^  while  life  was  still  a  blessiug,  and  to 
breathe  the  fresh  air  and  enjoy  the  clear  sunshine  was  to  be 
supremely  happy,  even  these  continue  still  unchaiiged,  clothed 
in  the  same  verdure,  wearing  the  same  cheerful^  smile,  and 
Stirling  up  in  youthful  minds  the  same  ardent  hopes,  which 
leap  forward  unconsciously  into  the  coming  year,  with  the  joy- 
ful anticipation  of  health  and  happiness.  But  where  are  they, 
the  qompanions  of  our  childhood  and  earliest  youth,  who  loved 
to  gaze  along  with  us  on  all  that  is  beautiful  and  majestic  in 
the  scenes  around  us,  and  whose  elastic  spiiits  bounded  forward 
with  all  the  freedom  and  confidence  of  unsuspecting  youth  to 
the  enjoyments  of  coming  years  ?  For  them  no  sun  is  bright, 
and  no  fields  are  beautiful ;  no  ray  of  light  breaks  in  upon  the 
darkness  of  their  last  lonely  dwelling-place ;  and  the  green 
grass  waves  in  rank  luxuriance  unnoticed  and  unfelt  over  their 
silent  and  solitary  abode.  Even  those  frail  habitations  which 
man  hath  erected  here,  as  the  abode  of  his  temporary  residence, 
and  which  shall  soon  crumble  into  the  dust,  even  they  outlast 
our  dying  generation.  The  home  of  our  childhood  still  remains ; 
but  where  are  they  who  made  that  home  so  happy,  who  gath- 
ered around  the  same  cheerful  hearth,  knelt  at  the  same  family 


368  HOW   LIFE   IS  TO   BE    IMPROYED. 

altar,  and  held  high  and  blessed  communion  with  us  about  that 
world  of  spirits  to  which  they  have  now  departed?  That  ven- 
erable form,  which  led  our  thoughts  in  prayer,  has  long  since 
mouldered  in  the  grave.  The  maternal  tenderness  which  made 
our  home  a  paradise,  and  the  name  of  Mother,  the  sweetest, 
dearest,  holiest  on  earth,  is  gone  forever.  The  loud  laugh  rings 
in  those  well-known  halls  but  to  mock  us  in  our  agony.  It  is 
not  the  boyish  merriment  of  the  brother  that  we  lost.  That 
light  footstep  is  scarcely  heard  as  it  falls  in  its  gentle  graceful- 
ness upon  the  threshold.  But  it  is  not  of  the  sister  we  loved. 
Our  fathers,  where  are  they"?  and  the  prophets,  do  they  live 
forever  ? 

Let  us  dwell,  ray  brethren,  let  us  often  dwell  upon  the  memory 
of  the  dead.  "Blessed  are  the  dead  that  die  in  the  Lord  ; " 
and  ever  blessed  and  ever  sacred  be  their  memories.  Holy,, 
holy,  holy,  far  above  all  earthly  feelings,  is  that  fond  remem- 
brance which  lingers  around  the  graves  of  the  departed,  w^hich 
cherishes  the  recollection  of  their  virtues,  which  dwells  upon 
their  bright  example,  and  longs  to  be  prepared  for  their  society 
above.  It  ^exalts  at  once,  and  purifies  our  nature;  it  raises  us 
above  the  world  to  hold  communion  with  the  skies,  and  forms 
a  new  link  in  that  chain  of  love  which  binds  earth  to  heaven, 
and  binds  the  destinies  of  man  to  the  throne  of  God.  There 
are  many  of  us  here  who  have  more  beloved  friends  in  heaven 
than  on  eanli.  And  what  a  thought  it  is  that  they  are  now 
angels  of  light  around  the  throne  of  God — ^ministering  spirits 
to  us  who  believe- — to  be  the  object  of  an  angel's  sympathy, 
an  angel's  love !  !  !  Now  call  not  this  the  raAdngs  of  enthusi- 
asm ;  it  is  the  sober  truth  of  God.  In  the  coldness  and  hard- 
ness of  a  proud  scepticism,  call  not  that  a  too  transcendent 
vision,  which  paints  the  dead  on  earth  revived  in  heaven.  It 
is  one  of  those  glimpses  which  are  sometimes  given  us  in  the 
Bible,  of  the  unseen  and  eternal  w^orld.  It  is  one  of  those 
beams  from  that  unutterable  and  unapproachable  glory  which 
sometimes  penetrate  these  dark  and  heavy  clouds  that  over- 
hang our  existence  here,  flash  across  our  pathway  on  earth,  and 
startle  us  by  the  very  magnificence  of  their  revelations. 


HOW   LIFE   IS  TO   BE    IMPROVED.  369 

Now,  although  there  is  no  tiuth  which  we  are  more  prone 
to  forget,  there  is  none  more  importunately  pressed  upon  our 
attention  in  the  word  of  God,  than  the  shortness  of  our  liv^es. 
It  is  clothed  in  every  variety  of  itnagery  which  could  strike 
the  fancy  or  aifect  the  heart  of  maji.  It  is  a  vapor  which  dis- 
appears as  soon  as  it  is  seen,  a  cloud  which  rises  in  a  summer's 
sky,  and  suddenly  vanislies  away.  It  is  like  a  tale  that  is  told, 
passing  a  few  short  hours  merrily  away,  and  then  forgotten 
forever.  Even  the  frailest  of  those  fragile  things  which  we 
employ  as  the  emblems  of  our  mortality  often  survive  us.  The 
flower  still  blooms  to  remind  us  of  the  hand  which  planted  it 
nnd  the  gentle  heart  which  nurtured  it  with  a  sister's  love. 
But  she,  the  sweetest,  the  dearest,  the  loveliest  of  all,  the 
flower  of  her  family,  is  gone!  The  long  grass  waves  in  sum- 
mer still  above  the  head  whose  glossy  ringlets  were  tossed  in 
girlish  merriment  as  she  ran  to  welcome  and  enibr? c"  us.  It 
is  like  the  grass  which  waves  luxnrianiiy  ov  ^r  t  e  M.-M  i;i  i-.r 
morning,  l)Ut  has  fallen  beneath  the  s  ythe  of  the  n,ov,'er  be- 
fore the  night  comes  on.  It  is  like  the  flower  which  blooms 
in  the  garden,  and  receives  the  admiration  of  each  transient 
visitor,  but  is  withered  by  the  first  hot  blast  that  passes  over  it. 

It  is  impossible  for  any  of  us,  who  have  seen  much  of  the 
afllictions  of  human  life,  not  to  realize  the  justice  of  these 
touching  representations,  and  feel,  as  we  read  them,  a  thou- 
sand recollections  rushing  unbidden  into  the  mind,  and  adding 
melancholy  confirmation  of  their  truth.  And  at  such  a  time, 
perhaps,  there  are  few  of  us  who  do  not  love  to  meditate,  in  a 
kind  of  poetic  reverie,  on  the  shortness  and  uncertainty  of 
m:in's  condition  here;  and  while  we  enjoy  the  luxury  of  such 
a  soft  and  pleasing  sentimentalisra,  we  almost  think  that  we 
are  ready  to  leave  this  world  of  sorrow,  and  go  to  that  abode 
of  peace,  where  our  friends  have  gone  before  us;  to  lie  down 
in  that  long  repose  where  "  the  wicked  cease  from  troublinj^and 
the  weary  are  at  rest."  But  it  is  greatly  to  be  feared  that 
with  many,  especially  amongst  the  more  refined  and  cultivated 
classes  of  society,  this  fine  sensibility  is  mistaken  for  religious 
feeling,  and  constitutes  indeed  all  the  religion  they  possess. 
16* 


370  HOW   LIFE   IS   TO   BE   IMPROVED. 

They  weep  and  sigh,  and  are  most  tenderly  pathetic,  in  view 
of  man's  mortality,  but  soon  forget  it  all,  and  no  real,  perma- 
nent impression  has  been  made  upon  their  character  and  life. 
Xow  this  is  not  the  improvement  which  we  should  make  of  the 
shortness  of  our  lives.  We  should  not  treat  the  solemn  reali- 
ties of  human  life  as  we  do  tlie  fictions  of  a  poet  or  a  novelist. 
We  should  not  merely  weep  and  sentimentalize  about  them, 
but  we  should  take  them  up  as  solemn  and  practical  truths,  in 
which  we  have  a  deep  and  eternal  interest ;  and  if  we  thus  con- 
sider them,  then  indeed  may  we  learn  lessons  of  the  deepest 
and  most  precious  wisdom. 

But,  observe,  if  we  would  learn  this  wisdom,  it  is  to  be  done 
by  application.  The  psalmist  prays,  "  So  teach  us  to  number 
our  days,  that  we  may  apply  our  hearts  unto  wisdom."  All 
wisdom  lies  beneath  the  surface.  It  is  a  hidden  treasure  for 
which  we  must  dig,  if  we  would  obtain  it.  It  is  not  a  few  idle 
wishes,  nor  a  few  feeble  efforts,  which  will  master  that  wisdom 
that  cometh  fi-om  above.  There  must  be  deep,  close,  intense 
and  continued  application.  There  must  be  a  striving  to  enter 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.  There  must  be  an  agonizing  after 
those  blessings  which  are  offered  in  the  Gospel.  The  great 
and  solemn  truths  of  God's  Word,  and  the  awful  realities  of 
eternity,  must  be  treasured  up  in  the  memory,  and  dwelt  upon 
in  our  reflections,  and  urged  home  by  repeated  efforts  upon  the 
heart  and  the  conscience,  even  as  the  aspiring  student  pores 
over  some  massy  volume,  where  he  knows  are  laid  up  all  the 
treasures  of  ancient  w-isdom,  or  some  knotty  problem  which 
lies  in  the  pathway  of  science,  and  whose  solution  leads  on  to 
a  thousand  unknown  truths.  •  How  does  he  struggle  with  the 
obstacles  in  his  way,  and  summon  all  his  powers  to  carry  on 
the  contest!  Though  often  foiled, he  never  despairs;  he  never 
doubts  the  existence  of  llie  wisdom  he  has  not  yet  been  able  to 
discover ;  but  returns  repeatedly  to  the  investigation,  till  at 
last  bis  difliculties  vanish,  and  his  efforts  are  ci-owned  with  com- 
plete success.  Even  thus  must  the  student  of  heavenly  wis- 
dom meditate  by  day  and  by  night  on  the  great  truths  of  the 
Gospel,  the  short  duration  of  his  existence  here,  and  the  cer- 


now   LIFE   IS   TO   BE   IMPROVED.  371 

tainty  of  that  coming  retribution  which  awaits  us  all  hereafter. 
But  with  all  his  efforts  must  be  united  prayer  to  God,  fervent 
and  unceasing  prayer,  still  following  the  example  of  the 
psalmist  in  his  prayer  for  Divine  teaching. 

Prayer  without  effort,  and  effort  without  prayer,  are  equally 
unavailing.  The  first  neglects  the  agency  of  man,  the  last  the 
agency  of  God.  The  first  makes  man  a  machine,  incapable  of 
action  or  feeling ;  the  last  endows  him  with  powers  which  he 
does  not  possess,  and  attributes  to  him  a  wisdom  which  dwell- 
eth  only  with  God.  Let  us  always  pray,  my  brethren,  as  if  all 
depended  on  prayer ;  and  let  us  labor,  as  if  all  depended  on 
our  efforts.  And  let  us  cease  to  wonder  that  the  boat  which  is 
propelled  by  only  a  single  oar,  does  not  glide  smoothly  and 
easily  over  the  water,  but  is  swept  away  by  every  current,  and 
whiiled  in  every  eddy.  If  we  would  rightly  improve  the 
shortness  nnd  uncertainty  of  our  lives,  let  us  seriously  and 
solemnly  reflect  upon  the  lessons  of  our  text. 

I.  That  we  are  not  at  our  own  disposal,  but  in  the  hand  of  a 
Sovereisrn  and  Almiorhtv  God.  This  is  a  truth  that  is  admitted 
by  all  in  language,  but  utterly  renounced  in  all  the  practical 
affairs  of  life.  All  the  schemes  and  plans  of  worldly  men  are 
formed  and  pursued  upon  the  deliberate  assumption  of  the 
fact  that  our  lives  are  our  own,  and  that  we  may  employ  them 
according  to  our  pleasure.  They  are  preserved  and  sustained, 
we  suppose,  by  the  laws  of  natui-e,  and  hence  we  learn  to  at- 
tribute to  them  something  of  the  certainty  and  stability  which 
we  observe  in  the  operation  of  those  laws.  Sinners  fear  no 
change.  They  are  saying,  To-monow  shall  be  as  this  day 
and  much  more  abundant.  They  look  forward  far  into  the 
future.  Fancy  spr.eads  its  gayest  coloring  over  the  distant 
scene,  and  hope  leaps  forward  to  the  atiticipated  happiness. 
But  in  all  this  there  is  no  thought  of  God,  there  is  no  thought 
of  death,  there  is  no  dream  about  eternity.  And  thus  is  the 
High  and  Holy  One,  in  whose  hand  is  our  life,  and  from  whon) 
all  our  blessings  flow,  dispossessed  of  his  rightful  authority 
over  our  hearts  and  lives.  We  erect  an  idol  in  his  place,  and 
yield  to  it  the  supremacy  over  our  affections,  and  never  dream 


372  HO^   LIFE   IS   TO    BE   IMPHOYED. 

that  it  sliall  not  be  eternal,  until  God,  in  his  wrath  or  bis 
mercy,  casts  it  down  from  the  pedestal  of  its  worship,  and 
mingles  it  with  the  dust  of  the  earth.  We  mourn  for  a  time 
in  brokenness  of  heart,  as  did  the  one  of  old,  who  said,  "Ye 
have  taken  away  our  gods,  and  what  shall  we  do  ?  "  But  hu- 
man ingenuity  or  human  folly  soon  discovers  a  new  resource, 
and  another  idol  is  consecrated,  with  other  rites,  and  enthroned 
with  undiminished  power  over  our  souls.  And  it  is  only  when 
idol  after  idol  has  been  torn  away  that  we  learn  how  uncertain 
is  human  life,  and  how  little  human  happiness  depends  on  hu- 
man foresight  or  human  wisdom. 

It  is  this  proud  feeling  of  independence  which  emboldens 
men  in  their  rebellion  against  God.  Did  we  all  feel  that  there 
is  an  unseen  Almighty  hand  which  sustains  us  at  all  times,  an 
all-pervading  Presence  following  us,  surrounding  us,  enclosing 
us  on  all  sides,  dealing  out  to  us  every  breath,  and  able  by  a 
single  volition  to  terminate  our  lives,  what  solemnity  would 
this  diffuse  around  us !  How  humbly,  how  softly,  how  fear- 
fully would  we  walk  before  the  Lord !  The  antediluvians  were 
secure  in  the  enjoyment  of  life,  and  looked  f»rward  to  hundreds 
of  years  of  undisturbed  indulgence,  until  the  day  when  Noah 
entered  the  ark,  and  the  deluge  burst  upon  and  swept  them 
away.  The  inhabitants  of  Sodom  were  secure,  even  while  Lot 
was  fleeing  from  that  guilty  city  to  avoid  the  coming  indigna- 
tion; and  many  a  mind  Avas  then  pressing  forward  into  the 
future,  and  contemplating  large  schemes  of  future  wealth, 
or  pleasure,  or  applause.  And  on  that  fearful  night  when 
the  angel  of  the  Lord  passed  through  the  land  of  Egypt,  and 
slew  all  the  first-born,  from  the  king  upon  his  throne  to  the 
lowest  peasant  in  his  cottage,  while  the  sound  of  wailing  was 
heard  at  one  extremity  of  Egypt,  the  voice  of  merriment  was 
resounding  throughout  the  other ;  and  mothers  clasped  their  first- 
born infants  securely  to  their  bosoms,  and  fatheis  gazed  with 
unsuspecting  pride  upon  the  manly  form  and  features  of  their 
sons  just  ripening  into  manhood.  How  vain  were  their  ex- 
pectations!  And  how  often  have  we  beheld  ourselves  the 
young  man  cut  down  in  the  flower  of  his  youth,  and  the  man 


now   LIFE   IS   TO   BE   IMPROVED.  373 

of  restless  activity  or  towering  ambition,  met  in  tlie  jDride  of 
his  manliood  and  in  the  midst  of  his  career,  and  hewn  down 
by  the  keen  sword  of  tlie  invisible  destroyer.  Let  us  remem- 
ber, then,  that  the  tenure  of  our  lives  is  very  un\;ertain,  that 
they  depend  entirely  on  the  will  of  another.  And  since  these 
lives  are  bestowed  at  first  by  his  goodness,  and  continued  by 
his  mercy,  let  us  seek  to  propitiate  his  favor,  let  us  endeavor 
to  do  his  will,  let  us  prepare  to  meet  his  final  judgment. 

II.  Let  us  remember  that  in  this  short  life  we  have  a  great 
work  to  do.  It  is  this  which  stamps  a  solemn  value  upon  hu- 
man life,  and  communicates  to  every  moment  of  our  existence 
a  portion  of  that  vast  and  awful  interest  which  belongs  to 
eternity.  Every  moment  of  our  being  has  an  intimate  con- 
nection with  every  other,  from  the  first  dawn  of  re.ison  and 
moral  agency,  to  the  remotest  period  of  that  existence  which 
has  no  limits  beyond  the  grave.  Our  lives  are  made  up  of 
moments,  and  each  as  it  passes  away  bequeaths  to  that  which 
fallows  a  portion  of  its  own  character.  Hence  we  see — since 
the  great  business  of  life  is  to  prepare  for  eternity-  -how  im- 
portant it  is  that  every  moment  of  our  time  should  be  dili- 
gently improved.  For  the  work  whicli  we  have  to  do  is  vast 
and  important ;  important  as  the  salvation  of  tlie  soul,  and 
vast  as  all  those  interests  which  can  be  comprised  in  eternity. 
This  is  our  only  probation;  and  all  that  we  can  ever  do  for 
ourselves,  all  that  we  can  do,  for  others,  all  that  we  can  do  for 
the  cause  of  our  blessed  Saviour,  must  be  done  soon,  or  left 
undone  forever.  What  immense  concerns  are  crowded  in  upon 
a  few  short,  fleeting  hours.  And  this  short  space  may  be  much 
shorter  than  we  suppose.  You  may  be  forming  plans  for  years, 
but  this  night  your  soul  may  be  required  of  you. 

The  great  business  of  life,  all  the  vast  concerns  of  eternity, 
may  be  compressed  into  a  single  moment,  and  that  moment 
full  of  distiaction  and  horror.  Oh,  how  many  thoughts  of 
horror  rush  in  upon  the  bosom  of  a  dying  sinner!  There  is 
the  memory  of  the  warnings  he  has  received  and  despised,  the 
invitations  he  has  heard  and  rejected,  the  privileges  he  has  en- 
joyed and  misimproved,  the  time  he  has  possessed  and  lost,  the 


374  HOW   LIFE   IS   TO   BE   IMPROVED. 

Spirit  he  has  grieved  repeatedly  away,  the  vows  and  covenants 
he  has  made  and  broken,  the  hopes  wliich  are  now  turned  into 
despair,  the  life  wliich  is  now  darkening  into  death,  and  the  of- 
fered heaven,  now  soon  to  be  exchanged  for  a  hell  of  deepest 
and  bitterest  agony !  Think  not  that  life  is  too  long  for  the 
business  allotted  to  it,  or  that  any  part  may  be  devoted  to  folly 
or  to  sin.  Look  within  you,  and  see  how  much  employment 
you  may  find  there;  what  passions  to  subdue,  what  pride  to 
mortify,  what  evil  desires  to  quell,  what  unbelief  to  overcome. 
Look  above  you  to  the  example  of  our  Divine  Redeemer,  who 
always  went  about  doing  good,  and  ask  how  much  he  expects 
you  to  do  in  imitation  of  his  example.  Look  around  you  on 
the  poor,  on  the  miserable,  on  the  ignorant,  on  the  sinful:  is 
there  no  sorrow  which  you  can  relieve,  no  ignorance  you  can 
instruct,  no  sin  you  can  rebuke  ?  Look  back  on  your  past  life : 
is  there  nothing  to  repent  of  and  to  amend?  Look  forward 
to  your  future  path:  is  there  no  danger  to  alarm  your  fears, 
no  enemy  to  oppose  your  progress,  no  temptations  to  seduce 
your  passions  ?  Are  you  altogether  prepared,  with  the  whole 
armor  of  God,  for  the  contest?  Then  your  deliverance  is  near 
at  hand,  and  it  becomes  you  to  dwell  upon  that  world  of  glory 
to  which  you  are  so  near. 

Look  away  beyond  the  scenes  which  are  now  around  you ; 
think  of  the  glory  yet  to  be  revealed,  of  the  crown  which  is  to 
sparkle  on  your  brow,  of  the  joy  which  is  to  flow  in  full  tide 
over  your  exalted  spirit,  of  the  presence  of  God  and  all  the 
glories  of  the  upper  sanctuary ;  and  then  think  whether  every 
moment  is  not  well  employed,  and  every  faculty  most  w^isely 
exerted,  when  engaged  in  the  acquisition  of  a  re\^•ard  so  rich 
and  so  unmerited.  That  was  a  wise  resolution  formed  by  one 
of  the  greatest  and  holiest  men  of  modern  times,  when  he  re- 
solved that  he  "  would  live  with  all  his  might."  The  expres- 
sion is  singular,  but  deeply  significant.  It  means  to  fulfil  the 
great  purpose  of  our  existence,  that  no  power  shall  lie  dor- 
mant, no  moment  be  unimproved,  no  duty  neglected,  no  op- 
portunity lost.  If  you  would  live  to  any  purpose,  you  musti 
live  with  all  your  might;  you  must  gird  on   the  whole  armor 


now   LIFE   IS   TO   BK   IMPROVED.  375 

of  the  Gospel,  and  endure  hardness  as  a  good  soldier  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Let  your  night  be  only  a  season  of  repose 
fi-om  the  labors  of  the  day  ;  and  wlien  the  morning  wakes  you 
from  your  slumbers,  let  it  only  rouse  you  to  other  duties  and 
other  efforts.  A  heathen  philosopher  once  lamented  that  he 
had  lost  a  day  when  he  had  conferred  no  favor  on  any  of  his 
friends.  And  be  assured  that  day  is  lost,  lost  never  to  be  re- 
gained, in  which  you  make  no  progress  towards  heaven,  resist 
no  wrong  propensity  and  strengthen  no  good  one,  do  nothing 
for  the  glory  of  God,  for  the  welfare  of  others,  your  own 
spiritual  improvement.  The  capacities  which  God  has  given 
you  are  great,  and  worthy  of  a  noble  object.  The  work  he 
has  placed  before  you  is  exalted,  and  suited  to  tlie  faculties  of 
your  nature.  Tlie  rewnrd  he  has  promised  is  large.  The  ac- 
count he  will  demand  is  strict  and  precise.  The  judgment  he 
has  appointed  is  near  at  hand.  The  time  is  short.  Behold, 
the  Judge  is  at  the  door ! 

III.  Let  us  learn  from  the  shortness  of  life  the  vanity  of  all 
w^orldly  passions.  Behold  that  splendid  procession  as  they 
sweep  along,  in  martial  triumph  over  the  streets  of  the  seven- 
hilled  city,  from  the  gates  to  the  capitol.  The  streets  are 
strewed  with  flowers,  and  the  altars  smoke  w^ith  incense  ;  and 
there,  arrayed  in  purple,  embroidered  with  gold,  a  crown  of 
laurel  on  his  head,  a  sceptre  in  his  hand,  and  drawn  in  a  gilded 
chariot  by  four  milk-white  horses,  stands  the  object  of  this 
gorgeous  ceremony.  Before  him  he  hears  the  proud  swell  of 
triumphant  music;  and  as  he  is  charioted  along  the  streets  of 
the  imperial  city,  surrounded  by  captive  kings,  and  the  rich 
spoils  of  empires,  and  cheered  by  the  loud  acclamations  of  the 
populace,  and  the  still  louder  greetings  of  the  army  who  par- 
take alike  in  the  victory  and  the  trium])h,  you  may  see  the 
flush  of  triumph  on  his  cheek  and  the  swell  of  exulting  rapture 
as  it  heaves  his  manly  bosom.  But  amidst  all  this  imposing 
and  exalting  scene  there  is  one,  who  sits  close  at  his  side,  and 
whispers  gently  in  his  ear;  and  that  glow  has  faded  from  his 
cheek,  and  that  flush  has  passed  away  from  his  brow,  and 
that   bright    eye  is  fixed  in   grave  and    melancholy   musing. 


^>>6  HOW   LIFE   IS   TO   BE   IMPROVED. 

And  what  did  he  whisper  in  his  ear  ?  Did  he  remind  him  of 
tlie  ruin  he  had  wrought,  of  the  sacked  cities  and  desolated 
fields,  of  the  mined  families,  the  bereaved  widows  and  orphan 
children  which  his  success  had  made,  and  tell  him,  in  the 
honesty  of  truth,  that  the  laurel  on  his  brow  was  steeped  m 
blood  and  scalding  tears,  and  ill  befitted  the  brow  that  wore  it? 
N"o.  He  told  him  that  he  was  a  man,  and  reminded  him  of  the 
mutability  of  human  afifairs,  and  the  sad  reverses  of  liuraan 
fortune.  He  bade  him  remember  his  mortality,  and  pointed 
forward  to  that  day  when  the  glories  of  the  world  should  have 
passed  away,  and  victor  and  vanquished  should  lie  down  to- 
gether in  the  grave,  and  mingle  with  the  dust  from  which  they 
sprang.  And  now  the  conqueror  is  forgotten  in  the  man,  and 
the  recollection  of  his  mortality  has  quelled  his  rising  spirit, 
and  subdued  the  pride  and  ambition  which  success  nnd  ad- 
miration had  too  certainly  aroused.  He  sniely  cannot  agitate 
his  mind  with  schemes  of  wild  ambition  who  seriously  reflects 
how  short  would  be  the  triumph  of  his  pride,  and  how  certain 
and  how  di  eadful  its  termination.  . 

Let  us  remember  that  we  are  soon  to  die,  and  let  this 
moderate  our  desires  for  wealth  and  worldly  comforts,  as  well 
as  for  worldly  distinction.  We  could  not  be  over  anxious  to 
make  provision  for  the  flesh,  to  gratify  the  lusts  thereof,  if  we 
felt  that  all  these  things  would  be  taken  from  ^ls,  and  we  our- 
selves called  to  judgment.  It  would  teach  us  especially  to  lay 
aside  all  wrath  and  malice  and  evil -speaking.  How  can  we 
hate  the  man  who  is  so  soon  to  lie  with  us  in  the  silent  grave, 
and  stand  with  ns  before  the  tribunal  of  Justice?  There  is  no 
eloquence  like  the  eloquence  of  ihe  grave;  and  the  lessons 
which  it  teaches  are  as  full  of  wisdom  as  of  power.  Go  stand 
by  the  tomb  of  the  great,  and  .learn  the  vanity  of  earthly 
greatness.  Visit  the  grave  of  the  humble  and  obscure,  and 
wonder  at  those  petty  distinctions  in  society  which  all  termi- 
nate at  death.  Stand  by  the  grave  of  a  beloved  friend,  and  ask 
if  we  have  never  wounded  his  feelings  by  uukindness,  or  mis- 
led his  confidence  by  an  ungodly  example,  and  resolve  that, 
since  the  living  must  soon  be  among  the  dead,  we  will  more 


now   LIFE   IS  TO   BE   IMPROVED.  S11 

faithfully  perform  every  duty  that  devolves  upon  iis ;  that  onr 
consciences  may  be  void  of  offence,  and  our  aifections  un- 
mingled  with  regret,  when  we  gaze  upon  their  sepulchres  or 
recall  their  memories.  A  ad  to  stand  by  the  grave  of  an  enemy, 
is  to  feel  tlie  folly  of  all  human  animosities.  The  bitterest  and 
deadliest  foes  have  been  softened  by  such  a  spectacle,  and  even 
wept  to  think  that  they  could  ever  hate  the  poor,  weak  being 
sleeping  silently  in  the  grave  before  them.  Such  would  be  our 
feeling  if  we  seriously  reflected  that  all  men  are  mortal  as  well 
as  ourselves.  It  would  pioduce  a  brotherhood  of  feeling  to- 
wards all  around  us,  and  the  bitterest  hatred  would  soften  into 
compassion  and  love,  when  we  remembered  our  common  origin, 
our  common  misfortunes,  and  our  common  destiny. 

IV.  Let  us  learn  from  the  shortness  of  life  to  live  for  eternity. 
This  world  is  not  worth  living  for.  We  look  not  at  the  things 
which  are  seen,  but  at  the  things  which  are  not  seen.  For  the 
things  which  are  seen  are  temporal ;  but  the  things  which  are 
not  seen  are  eternal.  We  boast  of  our  superiority  to  the  brutes 
ihat  perish,  but  many  live  very  much  like  them.  They  ent, 
drink,  build  houses,  and  seek  to  gratify  the  senses,  and  leave 
out  of  view  their  future  destiny.  The  great  mass  of  mankind 
live  with  no  thought  of  God  or  immortality,-of  heaven  or  hell, 
and  of  those  unseen  realities  which  lie  around  them  on  every 
side,  and  fill  up  the  eternity  which  is  just  before  them.  Look- 
ing at  the  things  which  are  seen  and  temporal,  men  extend 
their  knowledge  in  every  direction,  and  their  dominion  over 
nature  ;  but  every  such  extension  of  knowledge  and  dominion, 
without  the  Gospel,  only  makes  the  world  worse  and  man 
more  wretched.  The  only  remedy  is  to  look  forward  to  the 
future,  and  to  prepare  for  eternity. 

Things  which  are  seen  are  temporal,  transitory,  and  evanes- 
cent. ]Man  belongs  to  two  worlds  ;  one  visible,  tangible,  pal- 
pable to  all  the  senses,  the  other  spiritual  and  eternal.  By  the 
body. he  is  allied  to  the  grass,  to  the  flowers,  to  the  forest,  the 
animals,  the  very  dust  beneath  his  feet.  By  the  soul  he  is 
allied  to  God  and  angels.  God  only  and  the  soul  are  |)erma- 
nent  and  enduring.     The  grass  withers,  the  flower  fades,  the 


3V8  HOW  LIFE   IS   TO   BE   IMPROYED. 

forest  dies.  Man  builds  houses,  and  they  crumble ;  rears 
families,  and  they  perisli.  Great  cities  and  empires  live  in 
ruins  as  memorials  of  decay.  The  very  names  of  their  builders 
and  founders  hare  perished.  Man  may  build  for  himself  the 
lofty  mausoleum,  deep-grave  his  name  in  marble  or  in  brass, 
lift  the  graceful  shaft  till  it  pierces  the  sky,  and  place  his  statue 
on  the  summit.  Yet  shall  his  name  perish  from  the  memory 
of  men,  and  the  marble  crumble  as  surely  as  his  body  crumbles 
in  the  dust.  Nay,  all  the  works  of  man's  prowess  and  genius, 
the  mountains  and  oceans,  and  the  great  globe  itself,  shall  be 
dissolved,  the  elements  shall  melt  with  fervent  heat,  and  the 
very  heavens  shall  be  rolled  together  as  a  scroll,  and  pass 
away,  "  But  thou,  O  Lord,  in  the  beginning  hast  laid  the 
foundation  of  the  earth ;  and  the  heavens  are  the  work  of  thy 
hand.  They  shall  perish,  but  thou  shalt  endure  ;  and  they  all 
shall  wax  old  as  doth  a  garment ;  and  as  a  vesture  shalt  thou 
change  them,  and  they  shall  be  changed;  but  thou  art  the 
same,  and  thy  years  shnll  have  no  end." 

Consider,  then,  the  unutterable  folly,  the  strange  and  mad 
insanity  of  looking  only  at  things  which  are  seen  and  tem- 
poral, to  the  neglect  of  unseen  and  eternal  realities  of  God 
and  eternity.  Suppose  you  dwelt  on  some  narrow,  barren,  ill- 
watered  spot,  in  a  wretched  hovel,  and  knew  you  had  a  broad 
and  imperial  domain  elsewhere,  a  rich  inheritance,  a  princely 
estate,  reserved  especially  for  you,  and  secured  by  a  title-deed, 
where  perpetual  spring  reigned,  with  perennial  gushing  streams, 
and  fruitful  fields,  and  fragrant  flowers.  Suppose  that  one 
after  another  of  your  dearest  kindred  and  friends  had  gone  to 
that  inheritance  before  you,  and  were  waiting  there  to  receive 
and  welcome  you.  Suppose  that,  in  departing,  they  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  its  glories,  and  spoken  in  raptures  of 
them — had  seen  cherub  forms  inviting  you  to  come,  and  heard 
cherub  voices  of  welcome  there.  Suppose  that  in  favored 
hours,  when  the  air  was  clear  and  the  sun  was  bright,  you  had 
yourself  caught  some  glimpses  of  its  sj^ires  and  walls  and 
mountain-to|)s,  had  inhaled  stray  breezes,  and  even  drimk  of  the 
waters  flowing  from  that  land.   Suppose  that  it  lay  just  beyond 


HOW   LIFE   IS   TO   BE   IMPROVED.  379 

a  stream  not  far  away,  directly  in  your  path,  and  that  you 
might  reach  it  to-morrow,  and  enter  upon  the  full  fruition  of  its 
blessedness  and  glory  ;  and  yet  you  give  all  your  thoughts,  your 
pursuits,  your  time,  your  affections  to  that  wretched  hovel  and 
barren  spot  in  which  you  dwell.  This  would  give  but  a  faint 
delineation  of  the  folly  and  madness  of  those  who  are  neglecting 
things  unseen  and  eternal,  for  those  which  are  present  and 
temporal — who  are  preferring  earth  to  heaven,  time  to  eternity, 
and  the  mere  gratification  of  the  senses  to  the  grand  realities 
of  God  and  the  soul. 


XX. 

DOES  GOD  ALWAYS  PUNISH  SIN? 


EccL.  ix.  3. — '-There  is  one  event  unto  all."  Eccl,  viii.  14. — "There  is  a 
vanity  which  is  done  upon  the  earth,  and  there  be  just  men,  unto  whom 
it  happeneth  according  to  the  work  of  the  wicked:  again  there  be  wicked 
men  to  whom  it  happeneth  according  to  the  work  of  the  righteous." 


These  words  were  spoken  by  Solomon  in  the  hour  of  his 
temptation  and  unbelief.  How  different  his  feelings  when,  en- 
lightened from  on  high,  he  could  exclaim,  "  The  path  of  the  just 
is  as  the  shining  light,  which  shineth  more  and  more  imto  the 
perfect  day ;"  and  again,  "  Wisdom's  ways  are  ways  of  pleasant- 
ness, and  all  her  paths  are  peace  ;"  and  again,  "  The  fear  of  the 
Lord  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom,  and  the  knowledge  of  the 
Holy  is  understanding;"  and  in  the  close  of  this  very  book, 
"  Let  us  hear  the  conclnsion  of  the  whole  matter.  Fear  God  and 
keep  his  commanrlments,  for  this  is  the  whole  duty  of  man." 
Yet  when  left  in  his  own  strength,  to  wrestle  with  the  powers 
of  darkness,  and  the  corruptions  of  his  own  fillen  nature,  there 
was  many  an  hour  of  bitter  anguish,  and  this  book  of  Ecclesi- 
astes  is  the  perfect  picture  of  just  such  a  mind,  perplexed,  be- 
wildered, maddened  even  to  desperation.  "Therefore  I  hated 
life;"  "yea,  I  hated  all  the  labor  I  had  taken  under  the  sun." 
Again,  "  I  went  about  to  desj^air  of  all  the  labor  which  I  took 
under  the  sun."  He  had  gone  to  all  the  sources  of  worldly 
enjoyment,  and  found  them  broken  cisterns,  no  living  waters 
in  them  to  slack  the  thirst  of  an  immortal  spirit.  He  tries 
the  pleasures  of  sense  and  the  pleasures  of  the  understand- 
ing, and  turns  in  disgust  and  satiety  from  both ;  they  are 
"  all  vanity."     He  turns    to  society  for  relief,   and   tries  the 


DOES   GOD   ALWAYS   PUNISH   SIN?  381 

friendship  of  man,  but  there  finds  only  ingratitude  and 
treachery ;  to  the  love  of  woman,  and  cries  out  in  his  agony, 
"I  find  bitterer  than  death"  the  fruits  of  such  companion- 
ship.- He  turns  to  tlie-  world  without,  and  seeks  to  forget 
himself  in  his  sympMhy  with  others,  and  everywhere  in- 
justice, oppression,  violence  meet  him  ;  here  he  finds  the  same 
impenetrable  darkness,  chaotic  confusion,  unfathomable  mys- 
tery of  sin  and  suffering.  "Moieover  I  saw  under  the  sun  the 
place  of  judgment,  that  wickedness  was  there."  ''I  beheld 
the  tears  of  the  oppressed,  and  they  had  no  comforter,  and  on 
the  side  of  their  oppressors  was  poicerP  And  he  cries  it  is 
better  never  to  have  been  born,  "than  to  have  seen  the  evil 
work  that  is  done  under  the  sun."  Forgetting  the  gentle  wis- 
dom of  his  father  David,  whose  feet  had  well-nigh  slipped  under 
the  same  temptations;  forgetting  that  final  judgment,  where 
oppressors  and  oppressed  shall  stand  together  at  the  bar  of 
God,  and  those  retributions  of  eternity  where  all  the  wrongs 
of  time  shall  be  rectified ;  he  leaps  impetuously  to  the  fearful 
conclusion,  that  there  is  no  divine  order,  no  supreme  law  on 
earth,  no  virtue  or  vice,  right  or  wrong ;  "  that  man  hath  no 
pre-eminence  above  the  beast;"  that  there  is  no  better  thing 
under  the  sun,  than  to  "  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry."  How  doth 
God  know?     Is  there  knowledge  in  the  Most  High? 

Now,  why  have  we  this  record  of  a  conflict  so  terrible,  the 
picture  of  a  soul  so  tossed  by  storms  ?  and  why  is  this  record 
placed  amongst  the  inspired  writings  of  the  sacred  Scriptures? 
Is  it  not  for  our  instruction  ?  Because  we  have  the  same  fallen 
nature,  the  same  subtle  tempter,  and  the  same  practical  athe- 
ism, not  so  distinctly  expressed,  but  vaguely  felt,  and  tending 
practically  to  the  same  sad  and  terrible  conclusion,  which  em- 
boldens men  in  sin,  and  hardens  them  in  impenitence,  and 
leads  them  to  the  conclusion — let  us  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry, 
for  to-morrow  we  die. 

Xow,  in  opposition  to  all  this,  we  have  endeavored  to  show 
that  there  is  a  visible  government  of  God,  even  here  on  earth 
— a  government  exercised  over  an  aj)Ostate  race,  and  a  rebel 
world  ;  a  holy  law  wiiich  reai'lies  the  proudest  rebel,  lays  hold 


382  DOES   GOD   ALWAYS   PUNISH   SIN? 

of  every  pavticle  of  body,  and  each  wicked  passion  of  the  soul, 
and  makes  him  liis  own  tormentor.  Every  suffering  is  punish- 
ment for  sin,  and  over  this  whole  wide  scene  of  sin  and  sorrow 
may  we  as  distinctly  see  the  hand  of  God  inflicting  punish- 
ment on  sin,  and  hear  the  voice  of  God  denouncing  judgment 
on  the  sinner,  as  if  sentence  were  written  in  letters  of  light 
over  the  sky,  or  announced  audibly  from  heaven.  "We  have 
referred  to  instances  where  sin  the  most  flagrant  was  followed 
by  punishment  swift,  sure,  and  terrible ;  in  which  this  truth  is 
so  clear  and  startling,  that  it  cannot  be  denied  or  overlooked. 
We  visited  those  dark  abodes  of  wretchedness  and  crime, 
dark,  damp  cellars  and  dismal  garrets,  where  the  outcast  popu- 
lation of  our  large  cities  are  gathered  nightly  for  pleasure  or 
ghastly  rest ;  where  human  beings  of  every  age  and  sex  are 
huddled  promiscuously  together,  and  without  decency  or  sense 
of  shame;  the  very  air  reeks  with  pollution;  and  as  we  gazed 
on  that  sweltering  mass  of  physical  disease  and  moral  putre- 
faction, we  turned  away  in  loathing  and  horror,  and  exclaimed, 
"  The  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard."  "  Holy  art  thou,  Lord 
God  Almighty ;  just  and  true  are  all  thy  ways,  O  King  of 
saints  !"  We  pointed  to  the  crowded  wnrds  of  some  immense 
hospital,  where  friendless,  homeless,  houseless  wanderers,  vic- 
tims and  slaves  of  sin,  were  welcomed  by  Christian  love,  with 
every  human  remedy  that  could  alleviate  their  self-inflicted 
ruin,  where  each  countenance  of  wan  despair,  each  shriek  of  de- 
lirious horror,  each  curse  of  blasphemy  and  hopeless  cry  for 
mercy,  is  but  the  voice  of  God's  avenging  justice,  proclaiming 
the  penalty  of  violated  law.  We  spoke  of  the  evils  of  intem- 
perance, with  all  its  countless  horrors ;  so  gigantic  in  its  pro- 
portions, that  it  overshadows  all  the  land;  so  universal,  that 
there  is  not  a  family  connection,  however  proud  or  pure,  not  a 
station  so  exnlted  or  so  hallowed,  scarce  a  domestic  circle  so 
sacred  that  it  has  not  penetrated,  and  made  the  noblest, 
bright(>st,  dearest,  best-loved — the  father,  son,  brother — the 
orator,  statesman,  poet — victims  of  the  fell  destroyer.  We 
spoke  of  war  with  its  blood  and  carnage,  havoc  and  devasta- 
tion, with  its  millions  of  men  in  Christian  lands  at  this  rao- 


dop:s  god  always  punish  sin?  383 

ment  armed  and  trained  for  mutual  butchery;  its  millions  of 
treasure,  wrmigfrom  the  abundance  of  the  rich,  and  the  penury 
of  the  poor,  for  this  horrid  service,  and  at  least  one  half  as 
much  more  destroyed  in  wanton  fury ;  while  the  wail  of  the 
nation's  anguish  rises  from  ten  thousand  desolated  homes,  and 
gaunt  famine  follows  in  the  track,  and  pestilence  hovers  in  the 
air,  and  those  the  sword  has  spared  fall,  amid  keener  agonies 
aud  longer  tortures,  beneath  a  deadlier  and  more  inexorable 
foe.  Now,  as  we  gaze  upon  these  scenes  of  accumulated 
horror,  remember  sin  has  produced  it  all,  and  as  human  society 
moves  on  nearer  and  nearer  to  its  destined  consummation^  and 
all  the  elements  of  good  and  evil  gather  to  the  last  great  con- 
flict and  triumph  of  right,  we  can  trace  the  gory  footsteps  of 
the  great  enemy  of  God  and  man  as  he  stamps  on  the  desolated 
earth,  and  feel  his  fiery  breath  as  he  kindles  these  demon 
passions.  Were  these  evil  passions  all  allayed,  licentiousness, 
intemperance,  and  war  abolished,  the  wretchedness  would  dis- 
appear. Those  millions  would  be  devoted  to  bless  and  not  to 
curse  ;  to  the  glory  of  God  and  the  good  of  man.  The  Gos- 
pel would  be  sent  to  every  heathen  nation ;  ships  would  be 
freighted  with  the  message  of  salvation ;  the  church  and 
school-house  would  spring  up  in  every  neighborhood ;  every 
orphan  and  widow  would  be  clothed  and  educated;  the  land 
would  be  dotted  with-  flourishing  villages,  quiet  hamlets,  peace- 
ful cottages ;  and  the  whole  emancipated  earth  would  rejoice, 
like  the  garden  of  the  Lord,  beneath  the  smile  of  the  lecon- 
ciled  Father  ;  "The  mountains  would  shout,  and  the  little  hills 
rejoice  on  every  side." 

Let  universal  love  reign,  love  to  God  and  love  to  man,  and 
heaven  descends  to  earth  ;  let  sin  reign,  and  hell  is  already 
begun. 

What  say  you?  Do  you  blame  the  holiness  of  God?  Shall 
•we  not  rather  say  that  sin  is  exceeding  sinful;  that  it  is  that 
loathsome,  execrable,  accursed  thing  God  hates?  Were  it 
embodied  before  you  to-day,  in  some  form  of  horror,  reeking 
with  blood,  revelling  in  murder,  feasting  on  hunirm  misery, 
gloating  over  the  desolation  it  had  made,  still  insatiate,  re- 


3S-i  DOES   GOD   ALWAYS   PUXISH   SIX? 

raorseless,  whetting  its  glutted  appetite  for  other  victims,  like 
hell  and  the  grave,  never  saying,  "  It  is  enough,"  but  prepar- 
ing for  other  generations,  and  for  all  coming  time,  for  your 
children  and  your  children's  children,  the  same  seductive  arts 
of  tre.Mcbery  and  lies,  to  allure  them  into  its  foul  embrace,  and 
mock  them  in  their  misery — would  you  not  rise  together  as 
one  man,  and  say.  Let  us  leave  business,  pleasure,  home ;  let 
us  renounce  ease,  comfort,  gain;  and  go  forth  at  once  to  exter- 
minate the  monster,  with  his  hellish  brood,  from  the  face  of 
the  earth  which  he  has  blackened  and  crushed  by  his  ruthless 
tyranny?  Then  commence  at  once;  expel  him  from  thine 
own  bosom, — 

"  Rise,  touched  with  gratitude  divine, 
Turn  out  his  enemy  and  thine, 
That  soul-destroying  monster,  sin. 
And  let  the  heavenly  Stranger  in. '; 

But  will  he  prove  a  Friend  indeed? 
He  will:  the  very  Friend  you  need; 
The  Friend  of  sinners — yes,  'tis  He, 
With  garments  dyed  on  Calvary." 

But  ^var  is  not  by  far  the  worst  of  human  evils.  It  is  often 
the  bitter  and  terrible  remedy  for  evils  worse  than  itself — the 
surgeon's  knife  and  cautery  which  extirpates  the  malady, 
and  is  always  the  sym2)tom  and  result  of  inw^ard  desperate 
disease.  "  From  whence  come  wars  and  fightings  among  you  ? 
Come  they  not  hence,  even  of  your  lusts  that  war  in  your 
members  ?  "  Even  in  prosperous  and  peaceful  times  the  fester- 
ing canker  eats  at  the  heart  of  society  itself,  and  breaks  out 
with  greater  or  less  malignity  on  the  surface — in  gibes,  taunts, 
scorn,  defiance,  cold  suspicion,  in  sly  innuendo,  in  whispered 
slander,  in  open  denunciation,  in  imperative  will,  brooking  no 
opposition,  tolerating  no  dissent  from  its  opinions.  Neighbor 
is  separated  from  neighbor,  friend  from  friend,  brother  from 
brother,  sisters  who  have  lain  on  each  other's  bosom,  clasped 
in  each  other's  arms,  amidst  the  sweet  dreams  of  innocence — 
their  children  the  veriest  foes.     Sin  enters  the  domestic  circle, 


DOES   GOD   ALWAYS   PUNISH   SIX?  3S5 

and  mnrk  its  havoc  there — anger  between  husband  and  \vi!e, 
the  hasty  remark,  the  quick,  fiery  reply,  mutual  exasperation, 
moody  silence,  smouldering  fires  covered,  not  quenched.  The 
children  catch  the  spirit  and  follow  the  example.  Rebellion 
against  God  becomes  filial  disobedience;  order,  subordination, 
and  love  are  gone.  They  are  allies  against  all  the  world,  and 
enemies  to  each  other.  Recklessness  follows  indifference; 
honorable  names  are  tarnished ;  j^atrimonial  estates  are  wasted. 
The  nearer  we  approach  the  seat  of  all  this  evil,  the  deeper 
we  penetrate  into  the  mysteries  of  the  human  heart,  the  mi- 
nuter our  scrutiny  into  the  working  of  the  machinery  within, 
the  clearer  are  the  evidences  of  the  awful  holiness  of  God  in 
inflicting  punishment  on  sin.  There  is  not  a  fibre  of  the  body 
he  cannot  reash  by  his  power ;  not  a  passion  of  the  soul  he  can- 
not make  the  instrument  of  his  righteous  vengeance.  There  is 
not  an  evil  passion  which  is  not  its  own  avenger ;  not  a  right 
affection  which  is  not  its  own  sweet,  abundant,  delicious  reward. 
As  the  adder  in  its  fury  strikes  its  fangs  into  its  own  body, 
and  swells  and  bursts  and  dies  with  the  poison  it  nourished  ; 
so  there  is  not  an  evil  passion  but  inflicts  its  first  vengeance 
upon  the  bosom  that  nourished  it.  The  first  distillation  of 
bitterness  is  shed  in  the  heart  itself.  That  glare  of  hatred  and 
defiance  answered  back,  kindles  new  hatred.  We  speak  not  of 
violence  and  the  injury  it  may  produce,  nor  of  regrets  for  the 
past  or  consequences  in  the  future  ;  but  of  that  inherent  bitter- 
ness which  belongs  to  every  such  feeling.  Of  two  men  who 
hate  each  other,  there  is  no  question  that  he  Avho  hates 
most  bitterly  is  most  miserable  ;  while  each  attection  is  not  only 
a  blessing  to  others,  but  to  itself.  Each  wish  of  good,  before 
reaching  its  object,  has  already  shed  its  distillation  of  joy  over 
your  own  soul.  Each  look  or  act  of  gentle  sympathj'-  or  be- 
nevolence has  awakened  a  correspondent  feeling  in  anotiier, 
and,  reflected,  sheds  a  sunny  radiance  over  your  own  soul ; 
and  in  this  interchange  of  kindness,  he  who  is  first  and  kind- 
est in  his  love  is  most  happy.  In  this  sense,  too,  is  it  more 
blessed  to  give  than  to  receive.  How  much  of  heaven  is  there 
in  mutual  regard;  of  hell  in  mutual  detestation ! 


386  DOES   GOD   ALWAYS   PUNISH  SIN? 

Could  there  be  a  more  aiitlioritative  or  more  terrible  decla- 
ration of  God's  abhorrence  of  sin,  and  determination  to  punish 
it,  than  when  he  thus  follows  it  into  the  very  soul,  and  makes 
it  inflict  punishment  on  itself?  But  it  does  not  terminate 
here.  The  billows  toss  long  after  the  storm  subsides.  The 
dark  passions  leave  their  shadows  on  the  soul,  send  their  re- 
morse through  life.  To  the  bad  man  and  the  good,  nothing 
is  the  same.  IS'o  scene  in  nature  is  the  same  to  them.  Their 
enjoyment  in  the  relations  of  life,  family,  friends,  wife,  chil- 
dren, of  their  very  food,  is  difierent.  "The  candle  of  the 
Lord  shineth  upon  the  tabernacles  of  the  righteous." 

The  curse  of  God  resteth  on  the  wicked.  In  the  light  that 
shines  from  heaven,  all  things  assume  a  new  aspect,  are  sweeter, 
nobler,  holier,  more  sacred.  For  sin  is  the  disease  of  the  soul ; 
holiness  is  its  life  and  health.  The  nameless  joy  of  the  very 
young,  the  buoyancy  of  the  convalescent,  what  are  they  ? 
Every  thing  to  them  overflows  with  joy.  We  cannot  analyze 
it.  Every  sense,  every  faculty,  every  gland,  sends  its  own  dis- 
tillation of  enjoyment.  So  to  the  good  man^  ViW^all  is  sweeter; 
but  chiefly  because  conscience  is  at  peace  with  God.  This  in- 
dwelling conscience  is  the  most  direct  and  terrible  evidence  of 
God's  primitive  government.  Here,  God  speaks  directly  to  the 
man's  inmost  soul ;  tells  him  that  suflering  is  punishment  of 
sin,  and  that  "  it  is  right ;"  the  law  within  testifies  to  the  Law- 
giver above.  It  speaks  in  the  name  of  God  and  with  the  au- 
thority of  God.  It  has  been  well  called  the  vicegerent  of 
God ;  it  tells  him  of  the  justice  of  God,  and  points  to  the  bar 
of  God.  We  speak  not  for  those  who  deny  or  have  stifled 
conscience.  If  so,  your  misfortune  is  great ;  your  sin  is  great. 
Oh,  cherish  conscience.  It  is  the  great  fact  of  our  being.  It 
must  be  supreme  over  all  the  other  faculties.  Man  may  stifle, 
crush  it ;  but  it  will  rise  again.  It  may  be  betrayed  by  treach- 
ery, deceived  by  falsehood,  lulled  by  opiates,  bewildered  by 
sophistry.  It  is  not  destroyed.  As  the  lion,  so  is  conscience. 
The  lion  roars  ;  conscience  speaks  ;  and  every  faculty  feels  its 
power.  Even  those  who  defy  it  must  at  last  feel  its  power. 
How  good  is  God  to  endow  us  with  a  conscience — the  in- 


DOES   GOD   ALWAYS  PUNJSII   SIN?  •'^87 

terpreter  of  his  law ;  the  representative  of  his  presence ;  fol- 
lowing us  from  childhood  on  ;  warning,  whispering,  rebuking, 
commanding  us. 

How  awful,  too  !  a  Sinai  in  each  soul ;  a  voice  of  God ;  a 
tribunal  of  God  ;  and  in  the  last  day  the  verdict  will  be  found 
in  conscience.  Oh,  cherish  it;  listen  to  its  lowest  whispers; 
have  it  sprinkled  with  the  blood  of  Christ ;  have  it  enlight- 
ened by  the  word  of  God  ;  have  it  quick  and  sensitive  to  every 
call  of  duty. 

[To  the  foregoing  discourse,  which  was  evidently  left  unfinished,  we  sub- 
join the  following  strikingly  pertinent  passage  from  another  manuscript. — 
Kd.] 

We  have  seen,  in  Peter,  how  far  a  man  may  go  in  sin  and 
yet  be  saved.  We  see,  in  Judas,  how  far  a  man  may  go  iu 
religion  and  yet  be  lost.  In  the  one  case,  we  see  how  near  a 
man  may  come  to  the  gates  of  heaven,  and  yet  be  cast  down 
to  hell ;  in  the  other,  how  far  one  may  wander  from  God,  how 
near  to  the  verge  of  perdition,  and  yet  be  plucked  as  a  brand 
from  everlasting  burning.  In  Peter,  we  see  how  a  single  in- 
firmity, self-confidence,  may  leave  the  soul  an  easy  prey  to  the 
powers  of  darkness,  lead  to  sins  which  we  shudder  to  contem- 
plate, and  cast  a  shadow  over  life.  In  Judas,  we  see  how  a 
single  absorbing  passion,  silently,  perhaps  unconsciously,  in- 
dulged for  years,  may  subordinate  at  last  all  the  powers  of  the 
soul,  and  lead  to  the  basest  treachery,  the  blackest  ingratitude, 
the  most  atrocious  crimes — to  irretrievable  ruin,  to  madness, 
suicide,  eternal  death.  In  Peter,  we  see  the  nature  of  true  re- 
pentance, tears  of  genuine  sorrow  for  sin  flowing  from  a  heart 
melted  by  the  love  of  the  Redeemer,  and  bowed  in  meek  hu- 
mility, in  conscious  unworthiness,  and  adoring  wonder,  in  the 
presence  of  that  abused  and  yet  forgiving  love.  He  had  been 
"forgiven  much,  therefore  he  loved  much."  In  Judas,  we  see 
the  sorrow  of  the  world  which  worketh  death,  the  horrors  of 
remorse,  the  terrors  of  a  guilty  conscience,  the  anguish  of  a 
soul  wrapt  in  the  blackness  of  despair,  and  hardened  by  a 
sense  of  sin  unpardoned   and  divine  justice   unappcascd.     In 


388  DOES   GOD   ALWAYS  PUNISH   SIN? 

the  one,  we  see  the  sweetness  of  those  penitential  tears,  the 
joys  of  pardoned  sin,  and  the  assured  sense  of  reconciliation 
with  God ;  the  bounding  alacrity,  conscious  strength,  ex- 
ulting courage,  with  which  man  goes  forth  to  toils  and  dan- 
gers. The  terror  and  dismay,  the  self-abhorrence  and  detesta- 
tion, the  lurid  light  flashing  in  upon  the  soul,  the  settled 
gloom,  the  horror  of  deep  darkness  that  shrouds  it,  the  deli- 
rious anguish  wildly  hurrying  it  on  to  the  last  extremity  of 
guilt,  the  traitor's  doom,  and  the  traitor's  damnation,  what 
tongue  can  tell  ? 


XXI. 

THE  EELIGIO:^'  OF  THE  BIBLE  NOT  OPPOSED  TO  REASON. 


Isaiah  i.  18. — "  Come  now,  and  let  us  reason  together,  saith  the  Lord."     See 
1  Sam.  xii.  7.     Acts  xvii.  2,  24,  25.     Rom.  xii.  1. 


Ox  each  side  of  the  arched  gateway  that  leads  to  some 
noble  castle,  or  opens  upon  some  ancient  city,  may  often  be 
seen,  crouching  as  if  in  mutual  hostility  and  defiance,  the  grim 
and  threatening  figures  of  two  fierce  beasts  of  prey.  Now,  we 
have  often  figured  to  ourselves  the  entrance  to  the  path  of 
truth  as  thus  beset,  on  either  side,  by  horrid  monsters  ;  and 
happy  is  that  man  who  so  wisely  selects  his  middle  path  as 
to  pass  unharmed  by  either.  The  gate  of  eternal  life  is 
strait ;  and  there  sits  gloomy  superstition,  darkly  bidding 
away  from  her  all  the  enjoyments  of  life  and  spreading  her 
funeral  pall  over  all  earthly  objects ;  and  there,  on  the  other 
side,  haughty  scepticism,  drawing  a  veil  of  blackness  over  all  our 
brightest  expectations,  blotting  out  the  very  sun  from  the 
heaven  of  our  hopes.  Religion  is  a  reasonable  service  ;  yet 
there  sits  fierce  fanaticism,  with  fire  and  faggot,  to  forbid  the 
exercise  of  reason  ;  and  tliere  sits  a  fashionable  false  philosophy, 
with  an  altar  for  her  worship,  and  requiring  all  to  bow  down 
to  her  as  a  goddess.  There,  too,  is  stupid  ignorance  depre- 
ciating all  reasoning,  and  limiting  all  human  knowledge  and 
inquiry  to  the  narrow  boundaries  of  its  o^^'^l  acquirements. 
And  there  an  imaginary  learning,  a  science  falsely  so  called, 
flippant,  self-conceited,  exaggerates  her  exploits  beyond  all 
truth,  and  claims  the  whole  universe  as  the  field  of  her  bold 
and  boundless  conquests.     It  will  be   at  once  our  duty,  wis- 


390  THE   RELIGION   OF  THE  BIBLE 

dom,  and  happiness,  to  pursue  our  own  calm  and  quiet 
path,  equally  removed  from  these  opposing  errors ;  and 
while  we  gratefully  receive,  diligently  improve,  and  consci- 
entiously exercise  the  reason  God  has  given  us,  let  us  remem- 
ber its  office,  its  real  limits,  and  apjoropriate  exercise.  Let  us 
consider, 

1st.  The  duty  of  exercising  and  cultivating  our  reason  ;  and, 

2d.  Its  extent,  its  limits,  and  its  office. 

I.  To  those  in  whose  vocabulary  piety  and  absurdity  are 
convertible  terms — who  have  always  considered  reason  and 
religion  as  antagonist  powders,  arrayed  in  deadly  conflict 
against  each  other — whose  motto  is,  "that  devotion  ends 
w^here  inquiry  begins  " — it  may  sound  like  some  strange  an- 
nouncement when  we  say,  that  of  all  the  books  in  the  world 
the  Bible  most  frequently  inculcates,  most  peremptorily  com- 
mands, the  exercise  of  reason.  We  enter  here  into  no  minute 
analysis  of  the  human  mind,  no  nice  and  metaphysical  distinc- 
tions between  the  various  faculties  of  our  intellectual  nature. 
Every  man  knows  he  is  a  complex  being — a  body  and  a  soul. 
Now,  by  reason  in  its  largest  sense,  we  mean  all  that  distin- 
guishes man  from  the  animals  around  him — his  whole  intellect, 
as  distinguished  from  his  physical  powers — the  living  princi- 
ple within  him  that  thinks,  feels,  loves  and  hates,  hopes  and 
fears,  observes  and  judges,  compares,  reasons,  and  decides — that 
can  know  God  and  love  him,  understand  his  will  and  obey  it ; 
and,  according  to  its  obedience  or  disobedience,  can  measure 
out  to  itself  or  others  approbation  or  censure. 

We  pause  not  to  answer  technical  objections  that  might  be 
urged.  We  are  satisfied  that  this  wide  acceptation  of  the 
term  reason  is  justified,  not  only  by  the  language  of  familiar 
conversation,  but  by  the  usage  of  the  best  writers  in  our 
tongue,  and  that  in  the  earlier  stages  of  all  language,  before 
tlie  invention  of  our  nicer  distinctions,  it  must  have  been  uni- 
versally prevalent.  And  now,  returning  to  our  first  remark, 
we  say  that  the  Bible  not  only  allows,  but  encourages;  not 
only  encourages,  but  commands,  the  exercise  of  our  rational 
powers.     Nay,  this  is  the  principal   and  avowed  design  of  the 


NOT  OPPOSED   TO   REASON.  391 

Bible ;  and  if  stricken  from  its  pages,  little  would  be  left  be- 
hind to  recall  man  to  a  sense  of  the  snperiority  and  dignity 
of  his  rational  and  immortal  powers ;  to  point  out  tlieir  origin, 
their  nature,  their  exalted  destiny ;  to  heal  the  diseases  that 
enfeeble  and  endanger,  knock  off  the  shackles  that  fetter,  and 
call  forth  all  their  energies  to  their  noblest  exercise  and  larg- 
est development.  What  new  and  untrodden  fields  of  thought 
does  it  open  to  our  aspiring  powers,  high  as  heaven,  boundless 
as  infinity  ;  and  how  does  it  allure  us  to  the  lofty  contempla- 
tion, by  all  that  could  stimulate  the  curiosity  or  arouse  the 
imagination,  and  strain  to  their  utmost  all  the  capacities  of 
thought  and  feeling !  By  every  method  does  it  aim  to  arouse 
us  to  the  exercise  of  our  reason,  by  precept,  by  example,  by 
expostulation.  If  the  appetites  and  passions  are  to  be  con- 
trolled, it  is  that  the  mind  may  be  free  for  its  own  hisch  em- 
ployments.  If  the  flesh  is  to  be  mortified,  it  is  that  the  spirit 
may  breathe  a  new  life.  If  the  outer  man  is  to  be  subjugated, 
it  is  that  the  inner  man,  the  nobler  and  immortal  part,  may 
walk  fortli  rejoicing  in  the  freedom  of  its  untrammeled 
powers.  The  great  and  ever-recurring  charge  against  sinners 
is  that,  immersed  in  sensuality,  absorbed  in  what  is  visible  and 
sensible,  all  the  higher  attributes  and  powers  of  their  nature 
are  palsied;  they  have  no  relish  for  rational  pleasures,  no 
capacity  for  their  appropriate  employment.  It  is  charged 
against  the  ungodly,  that  "  he  doth  not  regard  the  works  of 
the  Lord,  nor  consider  the  operations  of  his  hand ;"  and  in  the 
third  verse  of  this  chapter,  the  complaint  against  the  Jews  is, 
"  Israel  doth  not  know,  my  people  doth  not  consider  ;"  and  then 
comes  the  invitation  of  our  text,  "  Come,  and  let  us  reason  to- 
gether." Rouse  up  from  your  stupid  lethargy ;  lay  aside  for 
a  moment  your  sensuality,  your  frivolity,  your  self-indulgence ; 
let  reason  act  her  part,  let  your  immortal  nature,  so  long 
abused,  enslaved,  debased,  at  length  speak  out ;  and  let  reli- 
gion then  be  derided  as  a  visionary  thing,  if  the  revelation 
from  within  answer  not  to  the  revelation  from  without,  if  rea- 
son and  conscience  speak  and  add  not  confirmation  strong  to 
the  claims  of  God  on  your   affection   and   obedience.      Tlie 


302  THE   RELIGIOX   OF  THE   BIBLE 

prophet  Samuel,  1  Samuel  xii.  7,  cries  out  to  the  rebel 
Jews,  "  Stand  still  that  I  may  reason  with  you  before  the 
Lord." 

Indeed,  it  is  remarkable  how  exclusively  all  the  appeals  of 
the  Bible  are  directed  to  the  higher  powers  of  our  nature. 
The  prophets  demonstrated  by  conclusive  reasoning  the  folly 
of  the  idolatry  and  rebellion  of  the  Jews.  St.  Paul  reasoned 
with  the  JcAvs  at  a  single  place,  three  Sabbath  days,  from  their 
Scriptures,  proving  that  Jesus  was  the  Christ.  Acts  xvii.  2. 
It  was  when  he  reasoned  of  "  temperance,  righteousness,  and 
judgment  to  come,"  that  Felix  trembled.  Xay,  this  we  are 
told  was  his  usual  manner,  and  his  Epistle  to  the  Romans  still 
exists,  an  unrivaled  monument  of  logical  skill  and  power, 
where  every  thought  and  sentence,  and  almost  word,  is  knit 
together  in  strong  and  compact  order,  like  some  Macedonian 
phalanx,  firm,  impenetrable,  shield  locked  in  shield,  shoulder 
braced  against  shoulder.  And  have  you  not  observed  how 
skillfully  our  Saviour  would  refute  the  Jew  from  his  own 
Scriptures,  and  how  for  the  admirer  of  Xature  and  rejecter  of 
]  vcvelation  he  was  always  ready  with  some  illustration,  fresh, 
apposite,  beautiful,  forcible,  of  the  doctrine  he  inculcated — 
how  Nature  seemed  to  teem  with  illustrations  and  argument, 
and  how  the  flowers  of  the  valley,  the  trees  of  the  forest,  the 
birds  of  the  air,  and  the  clouds  of  the  sky,  would  furnish  some 
bold  analogy,  some  mild  reproof,  some  soothing  consolation, 
some  exercise  for  the  intellect  and  the  heart,  some  food  for 
the  souls  around  him?  Nay,  so  far  is  reason  from  being 
represented,  in  the  Bible,  as  hostile  to  religion,  that  they 
are  ever  considered  as  inseparable  companions.  Reason  is 
the  constant  attendant  of  religion — religion  the  perfection 
of  reason.  Sin  is  only  another  name  for  folly.  Religion, 
the  synonym  of  wisdom,  the  highest  wisdom,  the  best, 
purest,  truest  reason,  aims  to  attain  the  greatest,  noblest, 
happiest  ends  by  the  best  means  ;  looks  onward  and  upward 
with  widest  glance  to  the  greatest,  most  enduring  and  im- 
portant results. 

And  here  allow  me   one  passing  remark.     Religion   is   the 


NOT   OPPOSED   TO   RExVSON.  393 

highest  reason,  and  individuals  and  communities,  advancing 
in  religion,  are  most  advanced  in  wisdom.  Hence  ^'ou  have 
never  seen  an  individual  really  convertetl,  however  ignorant, 
or  frivolous,  or  thoughtless,  who  did  not  immediately  advance 
in  intelligence  and  rationality.  Among  serious  Christians  I 
have  never  seen  a  vacant,  senseless  countenance.  Again,  in 
your  eiForts  to  advance  religion,  in  future  life,  do  not  depend 
on,  nor  be  satisfied  with,  sudden  bursts  of  transient  excite- 
ment. Be  assured,  religion  is  wisdom — is  deep,  serious,  sober, 
calm,  continued  thoughtfidness.  Its  foundation  is  serious 
thought,  solid  instruction.  None  but  a  thinking,  intelligent 
comnumity,  can  long  continue  a  truly  Christian  community. 
Again,  you,  who  expect  not  to  preach  the  Gospel,  but  desire 
to  advance  your  country's  happiness,  remember  that  the  surest 
foundations  of  a  nation's  welfare  are  laid  in  the  depths  of  a 
nation's  piety.  Ignorance  and  vice  are  the  bane  of  republics; 
for  these  religion  is  the  only  remedy.  In  all  civilized  nations 
she  has  been  the  pioneer  of  knowledge,  the  steady  ally  of 
freedom.  It  is  the  only  principle  of  sufficient  diffusiveness 
and  power  to  pervade  all  classes  of  a  wide  community,  to 
counteract  the  tendencies  of  corruption  and  decay  inherent 
in  every  human  society,  and  to  wake  np  all  its  members  to 
the  conscious  dignity  of  rational  existence,  and  produce  that 
real,  practical  equality  withont  which  our  theories  are  vain. 
And  it  cannot  be  otherwise.  If  relio^ion  denounce  our  reason, 
then  reason  must  denounce  religion ;  and  to  what  shall  she 
make  her  appeal,  to  whom  present  her  credentials,  who  shall 
examine  her  evidences,  who  shall  understand  her  doctrines, 
who  interpret  her  language,  but  the  same  reason  whose  exer- 
cise she  is  supposed  to  forbid  ?  No,  it  cannot  be.  The  God 
of  nature  is  God  of  grace,  the  God  of  revelation  is  God  of 
reason  too.  He  is  the  God  of  harmony,  and  cannot  so  have 
mingled  the  elements  of  discord  in  our  being,  that  there  shall 
be  a  contradiction  between  the  revelation  from  without  and 
the  revelation  from  within  us.  But,  let  us  not  deceiv^e  our- 
selves ;  there  may  be  an  apparent  contradiction  Avhere  there 
is  no  real  one.     Your  reason  mav  be  enfeebled  or  diseased  for 


394  THE    RELIGION   OF  THE  BIBLE 

want  of  healthful  exercise  and  nourishment,  blinded  by  pre- 
judice, perverted  by  passion,  stupefied,  debased,  brutalized  by 
sensual  indulgence.  Vanity  may  betray ;  sophistry  bewil- 
der ;  ignorance  mislead ;  and  many  of  those  high  themes 
of  which  revelation  treats,  may  stretch  onward  into  a  re- 
gion where  reason  cannot  follow,  where  she  can  neither  affirm 
nor  deny,  but  must  await  in  silence  the  communication  of  a 
higher  wisdom.  And  this  leads  us  to  inquire,  in  the  second 
place, 

11.  What  is  the  appropriate  employment  of  reason  in  mat- 
ters of  religion  ?  And  here,  as  on  the  former  branch  of  the 
subject,  we  claim  no  peculiar  exemption  for  religion  from  the 
keenest  scrutiny  of  reason.  We  answer  fearlessly,  that  here 
her  office  is  the  same  as  on  any  other  subject.  The  method  of 
investigation,  and  the  laws  which  regulate  her  inquiries,  are 
precisely  the  same.  They  are  founded  in  the  nature  of  the 
human  mind,  and  do  not  vary  with  the  subjects  to  which  they 
are  applied.  And  what  is  it  that  the  intellect  of  man  can  ac- 
complish— what  the  office  of  reason,  in  any  department  of 
human  inquiry?  It  is  simply  and  solely  this — to  observe 
facts,  to  collect  and  arrange  them,  to  notice  their  points  of 
resemblance  and  difference,  to  classify  them  according  to  these 
observed  relations,  to  give  them  names,  and  to  announce  these 
as  the  laws  or  principles  of  the  science.  According  to  this 
view,  now  universally  adopted,  man  is  the  creator  of  nothing; 
he  is  only  an  observer,  a  collector,  an  arranger  of  facts.  He 
does  not  stand  forth  as  Nature's  master,  to  square  her  pheno- 
mena according  to  his  preconceived  opinion  or  a  priori  theo- 
ries, but  sits  as  a  learner  at  her  feet,  and  listens  to  her  awful 
revelations.  He  stands  in  the  great,  temple  of  nature,  to  ob- 
sei've  her  varying  aspects,  and  record  them  for  his  instruction ; 
to  listen  to  her  varied  voices — the  interpreter  of  her  language 
the  high-priest  of  Nature,  not  the  Lord. 

There  was  once  a  different  view  of  the  subject,  and  a  dif- 
ferent method.  Men  built  up  their  gorgeous  systems,  and 
wove  fine-spun  theories,  from  materials  their  own  brains  had 
supplied  ;   and  created  a   universe   of  their  own,  far  different 


NOT  OPPOSED   TO   REASON.  395 

from  that  which  God  made.  From  the  universal  principles  of 
reason,  and  the  nature  of  things,  they  derived  all  truth  and 
science.  Such  were  the  systems  of  alchemy,  astronomy,  and 
mental  philosophy,  before  the  days  of  Bacon  ;  but  these  are 
long  since  exploded.  Now,  the  philosophy  of  modern  times 
and  of  common  sense  has  taught  us  that  man  knows  nothing 
except  as  he  has  learned  it.  There  are  no  materials  of  knowl- 
edge, or  prototypes  of  truth,  laid  up  in  his  reason.  But  facts, 
learned  from  his  own  observation,  or  the  testimony  of  others, 
variously  modified,  combined,  and  classified,  form  the  whole 
structure  of  his  knowledge. 

We  hope  you  are  not  wearied  by  this  inquiry,  to  which  our 
answer  and  conclusion  must  be,  that  the  office  of  reason,  in 
any  science,  is  not  to  form  its  preconceived  theories,  and  then 
reject  or  bend  the  facts;  but  simply  to  investigate  the  truth  of 
facts,  receiving  each  on  its  own  appropriate  evidence.  Such  is 
the  modesty  of  true  science.  Such  are  the  prihciples  of  all 
philosophical  investigations.  And  such  is  the  proper  method 
of  procedure  in  the  investigation  of  religion.  The  field  of 
inquiry  is  wide  enough.  When  a  system  of  natural  science  is 
presented,  you  do  not  reject  it  as  inconsistent  with  your  reason, 
but  you  ask  for  the  facts.  When  these  are  presented,  you 
demand  the  evidence  for  their  truth.  This  is  brought  forward. 
You  examine  its  separate  parts — ^^their  mutual  agreement — 
their  united  strength,  and  you  yield  or  withhold  your  assent, 
as  the  preponderance  of  evidence  may  be.  Are  the  facts  con- 
clusive? the  testimony  convincing?  then  there  may  be  much 
that  is  mysterious,  even  inexplicable,  in  the  case,  and  irrecon- 
cilable with  your  previous  notions ;  yet  you  do  not  reject — do 
not  even  doubt  its  truth  (that  is  founded  on  its  own  evidence), 
but  you  strive  to  remove  the  difficulty,  reconcile  the  apparent 
contradiction  ;  and  if  you  fail  at  last,  you  remember  your  own 
ignorance,  and  determine  to  persevere  in  your  inquiries,  assured 
that  while  your  knowledge  is  limited  and  your  reasonings  are 
fallible,  facts  can  never  deceive  you,  nor  really  contradict  each 
other.  To  the  doctrine  of  natural  philosophy,  that  all  bodies 
are  under  the  influence  of  gravitation,  it  may  be  objected  that 


396  THE   RELIGION   OF   THE   BIBLE 

feathers  rise.  To  the  doctrine  that  bodies  put  in  motion 
move  on  forever  in  a  straight  line,  it  may  be  objected  that  a 
stone,  or  even  a  common  ball,  falls  in  a  curve-line.  You 
remember,  the  countryman  objected  to  the  earth's  revolving 
around  the  sun,  that  he  saw  the  sun  every  day  revolving 
around  the  earth,  with  his  own  eyes.  These  objections  are 
obvious,  and  to  ignorant  men  appear  conclusive;  yet,  fully 
understood,  they  only  confirm  more  fully  the  several  truths. 
You  do  not  stop  at  the  objection,  but  examine  farther.  One 
of  the  demonstrations  of  mathematics  is,  that  two  lines  may 
approach  forever  and  never  meet.  We  do  not  reject  the 
demonstrations,  but  say  it  carries  us  into  a  region  of  infinities, 
where  we  cannot  follow — into  subjects  beyond  the  limits  of 
human  reason ;  yet  its  practical  applications  are  important, 
and  truths  deduced  from  it  most  valuable. 

Now,  we  wish  you  to  employ,  in  the  department  of  religious 
inquiry,  the  same  methods  of  investigation  which  have  pro- 
duced such  beneficial  results  in  their  application  to  physical 
science ;  to  receive  facts  on  their  appropriate  evidence ;  never 
to  reject  a  well-supported  fact,  on  account  of  objections  founded, 
perhaps,  in  your  ignorance ;  and  when  you  get  into  the  region 
of  boundlessness  and  infinitude,  to  acknowledge  the  incompe- 
tence of  your  own  faculties  to  grasp,  to  embrace,  to  wrestle 
with,  objects  of  such  transcendent  greatness.  Now,  the  re- 
ligion of  the  Bible,  like  the  astronomy  of  Newton,  is  founded 
on  facts ;  and  those  facts  you  are  allowed,  nay,  at  the  peril  of 
your  soul's  salvation  required,  to  investigate.  It  appeals  to  a 
magnificent  scheme  of  prophecy,  commencing  from  the  fall  of 
man,  and  extending  in  its  mighty  sweep,  through  all  successive 
ages,  down  to  the  end  of  time.  Is  there  such  a  scheme,  or  is 
there  not  ?  Was  it  predicted  that  "  the  sceptre  should  not 
depart  from  Judah  till  Shiloh  came — that  he  should  come 
during  the  second  temple — the  light  of  the  Gentiles— and  that 
to  him  should  be  the  gathering  of  the  people?"  And  has  he 
come  in  the  fullness  of  time  ?  Did  the  Gentiles  cast  their  idols 
away,  and  did  their  temples  fall  throughout  the  globe  ?  And 
now  is  the  crucified  Jew  worshiped  as  Lord  of  all  in  all  civilized 


NOT   OPPOSED   TO  REASON'.  397 

nations  ?  Is  Babylon  fallen,  the  glory  of  the  Chaldees'  excel- 
lency— her  proud  walls  levelled  in  the  dust — her  palaces  the 
possession  of  owls  and  lizards,  bitterns,  and  pools  of  water? 
Wild  beasts  of  the  desert  howl  there.  The  Arabian  shepherd 
fears  to  pitch  his  tent  there,  and  the  curse  of  God  is  printed  on 
the  very  dust  of  her  ruins.  Is  Egypt— oppressor  of  God's 
people — the  basest  of  the  kingdoms  ?  Is  Tyre  a  bare  rock 
for  fishermen  to  spread  nets  ?  Is  prophecy  an  epitome  of  his- 
tory, written  with  a  pen  of  brass  upon  the  front  of  time  ?  Is 
Jerusalem  desolate?  Has  the  plowshare  swept  over  her — 
her  people  scattered  for  eighteen  hundred  years,  the  by-word 
and  scoff  of  nations?  Religion  appeals  to  amazing  miracles, 
performed  by  Christ,  in  the  presence  of  his  foes.  Did  they 
occur,  or  did  they  not?  Did  he  raise  Lazarus,  or  were  the 
Jews  deceived  ?  Did  he  feed  the  five  thousand  with  a  few 
loaves  of  bread,  or  did  they  only  dream  so  ?  Did  he  rise 
from  the  grave,  or  were  his  disciples  ignorant  of  his  person  ? 
Did  they  go  forth  with  their  lives  in  their  hands,  risking  all, 
suffering  all,  losing  all,  to  testify  the  story  of  his  resurrection  ? 
Did  thousands  of  the  Jews  and  ten  thousands  of  Gentiles 
believe  their  report  ?  Did  his  religioii  spread  in  the  face  of 
power  and  prejudice  and  interest,  till  it  covered  the  civilized 
world  ?  These,  and  such  facts  as  these,  are  worthy  of  your 
investigation.  Their  truth  depends,  not  on  any  speculations 
or  theories  of  yours,  but  on  their  own  proper  evidence.  Ex- 
amine for  yourself,  and  put  all  history  to  the  question. 

And  if  the  evidence  be  sufficient,  and  the  facts  be  true,  and 
we  have  indeed  a  revelation  from  God,  about  himself,  his 
character  and  moral  government,  then  what  more  has  reason 
to  do  ?  Is  it  to  lie  down  and  sleep  ?  No  ;  the  trump  of  God 
has  sounded.  Let  it  be  wider  awake  than  ever.  Proportioned 
to  the  importance  of  the  communication  should  be  the  inten- 
sity of  our  attention  and  the  earnestness  of  our  investigation. 
Reason  has  to  do  here  what  it  does  in  every  other  department 
of  thought.  You  question  Nature,  and,  laying  aside  all  your 
theories,  you  humbly  receive  tlie  communications  she  may 
make.     All  your  anxiety  is,  that   you  may  understand  her  Ian- 


39R  THE   RELiaiON   OP  THE  BIBLE,  ETC. 

guage  aright.  You  question  Revelation,  and,  renouncing  all 
your  cherished  prejudices,  you  meekly  listen  to  the  instructions 
she  affords,  Man  originates  nothing — can  originate  nothing. 
In  natural  philosophy,  he  is  the  interpreter  of  Nature;  in 
religion,  the  interpreter  of  revelation.  This  is  not  the  aban- 
donment, but  the  proper  exercise,  of  reason.  Nature  and  reve- 
lation are  not  opposed  to  each  other,  each  being  alike  from 
God,  each  appealing  alike  to  reason,  and  each  alike  demanding 
reason  as  its  divinely  constituted  interpreter. 


XXII. 

CHRIST'S  GRACIOUS  INVITATION. 


Matt.  xi.  28. — "  Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I 
will  give  you  rest." 


"Unto  you,  O  men,  I  call,  and  ray  voice  is  to  the  sons  of  men." 
Such  is  the  voice  of  Divine  wisdom  in  the  book  of  Proverbs. 
It  is  in  full  harmony  with  our  Saviour's  gracious  invitation  in 
the  text.  It  is  a  voice  from  heaven  to  earth — a  loud  voice, 
whose  sound  has  gone  forth  to  the  ends  of  the  world.  It  is 
the  voice  of  authority,  commanding  us ;  of  tender  and  conde- 
scending love,  inviting  us  to  come.  Sin  is  an  alienation  and 
departure  from  God — a  forsaking  and  wandering  in  enmity 
and  rebellion  farther  and  farther  from  God.  But  God  has  not 
forgotten  to  observe  the  wanderer.  His  eyes  behold,  his  eye- 
lids try  the  children  of  men.  Looking  down  from  his  throne 
of  exaltation  upon  his  creatures,  he  sees  them  far  away  from 
the  path  of  rectitude  and  allegiance,  and  going  farther  still, 
notwithstanding  all  his  love  and  mercy. 

Does  he  then  leave  us  to  ourselves  ?  NTo,  he  sends  forth  a 
voice  of  warning,  which,  even  at  our  distance,  reaches  us,  and 
with  authority  commands  us  to  return.  The  way  of  sin  is  fool- 
ish and  dangerous.  The  voice  of  nature,  of  experience,  of  wis- 
dom, of  conscience,  all  have  spoken,  but  spoken  in  vain.  They 
are  lost  upon  us  and  forgotten.  Now  the  voice  of  God  speaks 
with  authority  and  power;  and  how  good  it  is  in  God  not  to 
leave  us  to  our  ruin  ! 

He  issues  his  high  command,  "  Come  unto  me."  We  have 
cast  off  his  high  autliority ;  but  we  have  not  annihilated  it.  lie 
still  commands  both  in  heaven  and  on  earth ;  and  it  is  a  fearful 


400  CHRIST'S   GRACIOUS   INVITATION. 

thing  to  refuse  obedience  to  hiin  who  speaks  from  heaveu.  The 
fool  may  say  in  his  heart,  "There  is  no  God;"  yet  God  reigns 
over  him,  over  all  creatures ;  his  authority  is  independent  of 
us  and  our  acts.  We  may  disobey  him ;  but  still  he  reigns. 
The  danger  of  disobedience  is  vividly  portrayed  in  the  first 
chapter  of  the  book  of  Proverbs,  "  Because  I  have  called  and 
ye  refused ;  I  have  stretched  out  my  hand  and  no  man  regard- 
ed ;  but  ye  have  set  at  nought  my  counsel,  and  would  none  of 
my  reproof ;  I  also  will  laugh  at  your  calamity;  I  will  mock 
\\  hen  your  fear  cometh  ;  when  your  fear  cometh  as  desolation, 
and  your  destruction  as  a  whirlwind."  We  are  still  in  his  king- 
dom. Though  far  from  him,  we  are  not  beyond  the  reach  of 
his  arm.  His  eye,  his  very  presence  encompasses  us.  For, 
says  the  psalmist,  "If  I  ascend  up  into  heaven  thou  art  there ; 
if  I  make  my  bed  in  hell,  behoLl  thou  art  there.  If  I  take  the 
wings  of  the  morning,  and  dwell  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 
sea,  even  there  shall  thy  hand  lead  me.  If  I  say,  surely  the 
darkness  shall  cover  me,  even  the  night  shall  be  light  about 
me;  the  darkness  and  the  light  are  both  alike  to  thee."  Let 
us  then  obey  the  voice  that  speaks  from  heaven,  and  say, 
"Lo,  I  come,  I  delight  to  do  thy  will,  O  God." 

I.  The  invitation  is  to  all.  It  is  broad  as  the  sea,  free  as  the 
air,  universal  as  the  race.  It  comes  from  heaven  to  earth, 
from  God  to  man,  from  the  Saviour  of  sinners  to  the  perishing. 
"  God  so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son, 
that  whosoever  believeth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but  have 
everlasting  life."  Christ  died  for  sinners,  the  just  for  the  un- 
just. He  came  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  was  lost.  The 
Gospel  is  likened  to  a  great  feast  given  by  a  rich  man,  to  which 
all  are  freely  invited.  It  is  compared  to  a  river  of  life.  "Ho, 
every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters,  and  he  that 
hath  no  money,  come  ye,  buy  aud  eat ;  yea,  come,  buy  wine 
and  milk,  without  money  and  without  price.  Wherefore  do  ye 
spend  money  for  that  Avhich  is  not  bread,  and  your  labor  for 
that  which  satisfietli  not  ?  Hearken  diligently  unto  me,  and 
eat  ye  that  which  is  good,  and  let  your  soul  delight  itself  in 
fatness."     And  so  the  Saviour  cried  in  the  last  day,  that  great 


CHRIST'S  GRACIOUS   INVITATION.  401 

d:iy  of  the  feast,  saying,  "  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto 
me  and  drink."  John  vii.  37.  And  so  it  is  Avritten  in  the  Last 
book  of  the  Bible,  "  The  Spirit  and  the  bride  say,  Come  ;  and  let 
him  that  heareth  say,  Come ;  and  let  him  that  is  athirst  come  ; 
and  whosoever  will,  let  him  take  the  water  of  life  freely." 
Piodigal  son  !  far  from  thy  father's  house,  arise  and  come ;  it 
is  thy  father's  voice  that  calls  thee,  all  love  and  tenderness  and 
compassion,  sayins:.  Come  to  my  house  and  heart,  the  provisions 
are  all  ready,  and  welcome  shall  greet  thee  here.  Rebellious 
sinner  !  thou  hast  violated  my  law,  despised  my  mercy,  grieved 
my  spirit;  thou  hast  hardened  thy  heart,  and  stiffened  thy 
neck ;  no  love  has  softened,  no  wrath  alarmed  thee  ;  no  com- 
mand, no  invitation  has  influenced  thee — but  even  to  thee  does 
my  invitation  extend  ;  come  unto  me,  ungrateful  wanderer, 
come,  and  find  life  and  peace.  I  have  tried  to  bind  thee  to  my- 
self by  ten  thousand  cords  of  mercy;  thou  hast  burst  them 
all,  and  gone  to  a  fearful  distance.  I  might  well  leave  thee  to 
perish  in  thy  sins ;  but  still  do  I  pursue  thee  with  commands 
and  invitations.  Across  the  dark  and  dreary  gulf  have  I  cast 
up  a  highway.  Come,  then,  safely,  boldly,  and  without  delay; 
it  is  the  king's  highway. 

From  his  own  high  and  glorious  throne  did  Christ  come 
down  to  save  us;  let  us  then  return  and  come  to  him.  The 
invitation  is  urgent,  and  it  is  open  to  all.  Come  unto  me,  and 
I  will  give  you  rest.  He  is  ready,  waiting,  willing  to  receive 
you,  just  as  you  are.  Men  usually  send  to  another  for  help, 
but  he  calls  you  to  himself,  in  order  to  give  you  help.  He 
giveth  liberally  and  upbraideth  not.  If  earthly  fathers  de- 
sert and  earthly  friends  fail  you,  then  come  to  him,  who  is  a 
friend  that  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother — come  to  him,  the 
great  Father,  who  will  never  leave  nor  forsake  the  soul  that 
trusts  in  him.  If  temptation  assail,  or  sickness  distress;  if 
])ersecutions  arise,  or  storms  of  sorrow  beat  upon  you,  still 
come  to  him.  He  is  high  above  your  head,  high  as  the  hea- 
vens ;  yet  he  stoops  to  invite  you.  He  is  holy,  and  you  are 
sinful,  yet  he  condescends  to  invite  you.  He  has  long  been 
iieulected,  vet  he  still  invites.     He  has  all  the  treasures  of 


402  CHRIST'S  GRACIOUS  INVITATION. 

wisdom  ami  goodness  in  his  hands,  and  invites  you  to  come  and 
take  of  his  benefits.  Let  no  fear,  no  guilt,  no  ridicule  deter 
you.  Let  no  difficulty,  no  indolence  delay  you.  Sit  not  still, 
but  be  up  and  doing.  Resolve  at  once,  if  you  have  never  be- 
fore, saying,  "I  will  arise  and  go  to  my  father."  Now  is  the 
accepted  time  ;  now  is  the  day  of  your  merciful  visitation. 
Then  delay  not,  but  come  humbly,  penitently,  prayerfully,  sub- 
missively, earnestly  ;  for  your  soul's  salvation  agonize  to  enter 
in.  "  For  the  kingdom  of  heaven  sufFereth  violence,  and  the 
violent  taketh  it  by  force."  But  wherewithal  shall  I  come  ? 
you  may  be  ready  to  ask.  Come  in  your  nakedness  and  misery. 
Come  without  money  and  without  price.  No  price  is  de- 
manded of  you ;  full  atonement  is  already  made ;  Jesus  has 
paid  it  all — all  the  debt  you  owe.  Come,  then,  at  once,  and 
freely — just  as  you  are,  without  one  plea,  save  that  his  blood 
has  been  shed  for  you,  and  you  need  his  help.  But,  alas, 
some  stop  short  on  the  way.  They  begin  fairly,  but  reach  not 
the  point;  they  set  out  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  but  turn 
back.  They  are  convicted  of  sin,  but  not  converted.  Almost 
persuaded  to  be  Christians,  they  come  to  the  strait  gate,  but 
finding  it  too  strait,  they  refuse  to  enter  in,  and  return  again 
to  the  world. 

II.  Who  are  invited?  The  weary  and  heavy  laden.  The 
invitation  is  unlimited  in  its  own  nature ;  yet  it  is  addressed 
especially  to  those  who  need  it  most,  and  are  most  apt  to  re- 
ceive it.  Hence  the  hungry  and  thirsty  are  invited.  The  very 
terms  contain  an  argument.  For  the  hungry,  thirsty,  weary, 
sinful,  what  can  be  better  than  food,  drink,  rest,  and  pardon  ? 
The  invitation  applies  to  all  of  us  who  are  weary  in  our  strug- 
gles after  earthly  good ;  and  we  are  urged  to  come  to  him 
who  is  the  source  of  all  spiritual  and  heavenly  blessings. 

There  was  once  an  Eastern  prince,  the  son  of  an  illustrious 
father,  who  had  been  renowned  alike  for  his  virtues  and  his 
genius.  Tliat  father  had  been  successful  both  in  peace  and 
war.  Brave  in  the  field,  prudent  in  the  cabinet,  at  once  an 
admired  poet  and  a  successful  warrior,  he  was  beloved  at  home 
and  respected  abroad.     He  had  raised  his  people  from  an  ob- 


CHRIST'S  GRACIOUS  INYITATION.  ^03 

scure  and  despised  tribe  to  a  prosperous  and  respected  nation. 
The  son  of  such  a  father,  sitting  on  a  throne  thus  established 
in  the  affections  of  the  people  and  the  respect  of  foreigners, 
this  renowned  prince  was  blessed  with  unusual  prosperity  and 
peace  through  his  long  reign.  lie  was  celebrated  for  the  wis- 
dom and  the  splendor  of  his  court.  His  commerce  extended 
to  every  known  sea,  and  brought  all  foreign  luxuries  to  his 
door.  His  native  land  was  that  of  the  olive,  the  pomegranate, 
and  the  vine,  where  the  human  passions  were  as  luxuriant  as 
the  growth  of  the  soil,  and  the  means  for  their  indulgence  and 
gratification  were  fully  equal  to  their  desire.  In  this  land  of 
passion,  on  this  throne  of  power,  and  with  these  means  of  in- 
dulgence, the  favored  son  of  fortune  traveled  the  whole 
round  of  worldly  pleasure.  All  that  heart  could  crave  or  in- 
tellect could  relish  or  sense  enjoy  was  his.  Now  he  pored  over 
the  page  of  wisdom ;  now  he  studied  nature  and  wrote  many 
volumes  on  her  productions ;  and  now  he  rejoiced  in  sensual 
pleasures.  His  court  was  the  most  voluptuous  and  gay  ;  his 
equipages,  the  most  splendid  ;  his  grounds,  the  most  carefully 
and  expensively  adorned ;  his  palaces,  the  most  magnificent ; 
his  chariots,  drawn  by  horses  from  Egypt  ;  his  gardens, 
redolent  with  the  spices  of  Arabia ;  his  halls,  glittering  with 
the  gold  of  Ophir ;  while  princes  of  other  lands  crowded  to 
his  court,  to  witness  that  wisdom  of  which  fame  spoke  so 
loudly.  Deep  did  he  drink  of  every  cup  of  pleasure ;  and  in 
the  ardor  of  his  impetuous  temperament,  hotly  did  he  pursue 
each  object  of  his  changeful  desire.  Now  he  labored  in- 
tensely to  accumulate  and  arrange  the  science  of  his  age  and 
country ;  and  now  he  quaffed  in  maddening  merriment  the 
sparkling  bowl.  Now  he  tastefully  arranged  his  princely 
pleasure-grounds,  and  now  drank  in  the  flattery  of  his  ob- 
sequious court.  And  after  thus  trying  all  earthly  pursuits, 
and  drinking  in  all  earthly  pleasures,  he  turns  in  weariness 
away  from  them  all,  and  in  the  book  which  records  the  valued 
results  of  this  large  experience,  he  gives  us  the  conclusion  of 
the  whole  matter,  in  one  brief  but  significant  sentence — 
"  Vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  vanity  and  vexation  of  spiiit." 


i04  CHRIST'S  GRACIOUS  INVITATION. 

And  who  of  us  has  not  often  felt,  in  his  own  wearied  and 
jaded  spirit,  the  sickening  influence  of  this  same  conclusion  ? 
Who  has  not  found,  in  his  experience  of  life,  the  truth  of  this 
mournful  but  weighty  utterance — that  all  the  world  can  give 
is  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit  ?  It  cannot  satisfy  the  soul  nor 
give  it  rest.  Behold  the  man  so  ardent  in  pursuit  of  wealth. 
How  he  wrestles  and  struggles  for  it.  See  how  it  becomes  the 
subject  of  his  daily  thoughts  and  nightly  aspirations.  He  has 
made  gold  his  confidence,  and  fine  gold  his  trust,  and  Mam- 
mon, the  god  of  wealth,  has  become  the  god  of  his  idolatry. 
He  forms  it  not  into  an  image ;  he  builds  no  temple;  he  offers 
no  sacrifice.  This,  indeed,  is  not  necessary  to  constitute  him 
an  idolater ;  but  his  heart  is  the  temple  and  the  victim  too. 
His  idolatry  is  as  real  as  if  he  made  an  idol,  placed  it  in  some 
conspicuous  place,  and  morning  and  evening  worshiped  it — 
turning  to  his  treasure  as  faithfully  as  the  Jew  to  Jerusalem,  or 
the  Persian  to  the  rising  sun.  How  many  of  those  who  have  de- 
voted a  long  life,  body  and  soul,  to  the  accumulation  of  wealth, 
with  every  energy  strung  up  to  its  intensest  tension,  and  the 
strained  sinew^s  almost  cracked  by  the  efibrt,  have  felt  at  last 
that  it  was  all  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit;  that  there  are 
desires  which  wealth  cannot  satiate ;  wants  which  gold  cannot 
supply  ;  longings  of  our  immortal  nature  which  earthly  riches 
cannot  meet.  Plow  many  have  felt  and  confessed  that  they 
have  spent  their  time  for  that  which  is  not  bread,  and  labored 
for  that  which  satisfieth  not.  And  how  many,  at  last,  would 
have  been  willing  to  exchange  all  that  earth  can  give  for 
the  quiet  and  peaceful  rest  of  the  soul.  "  For  what  shall  it 
profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul, 
or  what  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for  his  soul  ?" 

Behold  the  man  who  is  borne  along  on  the  full,  fair  breeze 
of  popular  applause,  when  deserted  by  his  friends  and  slan- 
dered by  his  foes :  how  often,  as  the  hot  blood  courses  furiously 
through  his  veins,  and  his  feverish  frame  sinks  exhausted  by 
over-excitement — how  often  does  he  curse  the  fickle  populace, 
and  bitterly  denounce  the  cori'uption  of  the  great !  How  often, 
when  deserted,  and  misrepresented,  and  slandered  by  his  fel- 


CHRIST'S  GRACIOUS   INVITATION.  405 

low-nicii,  does  he  mourn  over  that  madness  which  sacriticed 
health,  conscience,  peace,  everything,  to  popularity,  and  feel  in 
his  inmost  soul  that  all  is  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit !  How 
gladly  would  he  exchange  all  past  triumphs  and  future  pros- 
pects for  that  peace  which  has  now  departed  fi-om  him,  per- 
hajis  forever  ! 

Thus  might  we  pass  from  one  worldlj^  pursuit  to  another, 
and  show  that,  when  supremely  valued,  they  are  vanity  and 
vexation  of  spirit.  There  is  no  peace,  saith  the  Lord,  to  the 
wicked ;  but  they  are  like  the  troubled  sea  when  it  cannot 
rest,  whose  waters  cast  up  mire  and  dirt.  See  that  white 
foam  riding  on  the  surface,  that  dark  sediment  rolled  up  from 
tlie  bottom,  both  dashing  against  the  strand  :  even  such  is  the 
tempest  of  stormy  and  ungovernable  human  passions.  It  is 
like  the  dark  billows  of  the  ocean,  heaved  upward'  by  the 
storm,  now  rising,  towering,  dashing  onward  in  their  fury,  now 
swelling,  boiling,  curling  from  beneath,  careless  of  all  human 
interests,  wrecking  all  human  hopes,  and  engulfing  in  their 
w^ild  roar  all  that  is  loveliest  and  dearest  to  human  kind. 
Thus  insatiable,  impetuous,  ungovernable,  destructive,  are  the 
appetites  of  the  wicked.  For  this  war  of  nature's  elements 
in  the  soul  there  is  but  one  remedy — but  one  power  on  earth 
that  can  say.  Peace,  be  still,  and  there  shall  be  a  calm.  That 
remedy,  that  power,  is  found  alone  in  the  Gospel  of  Christ. 

III.  What  then  is  the  duty  of  every  weary  and  heavy-laden 
soul  ?  It  is  simple,  but  it  is  urgent.  Take  my  yoke  upon  you, 
and  learn  of  me  ;  for  my  yoke  is  easy  and  my  burden  is  liglit. 
It  is  good  for  man  that  he  bear  this  yoke  in  his  youth.  It  is  far 
ditferent  from  that  which  is  imposed  by  Satan  and  the  world. 
The  yoke  of  sin  is  galling ;  its  bondage  is  hard  and  cruel ; 
its  demands  are  ever  increasing ;  every  gratification  of  sinful 
passion  only  inflames  desire,  makes  the  pleasure  less  and  less, 
and  never  says.  It  is  enough.  Sin  and  the  world  cry,  Give, 
give,  and  every  hour  brings  a  new  demand,  until  the  mind  and 
body,  overstrained,  become  enfeebled  and  w^orn  out  in  the  pur- 
suit of  things  that  perish  in  the  using. 

Sin  has  introduced  a  strange  conflict  into  the  mind  of  man, 


406  CHRIST'S   GRACIOUS  INVITATION. 

between  his  passions  and  his  reason  and  conscience — the  in- 
ward elements  dasliing  and  warring  against  each  other.  Con- 
ceive, if  yon  can,  of  a  living  being  so  strangely  constitnted 
that  all  its  parts  are  hostile  to  each  other,  every  mnscle  play- 
ing against  every  other  mnscle  ;  every  nerve  jarring  against 
every  other  nerve — bones,  joints,  tendons,  all  waging  perpetual 
war.  This  is  the 'condition  of  man  without  the  gospel.  All 
inward  harmony  is  gone.  Reason  and  conscience  grasp  and 
strive  to  hold  the  reins;  but.  passion  dashes  furiously  and 
recklessly  on.  The  conflict  rages  till  conscience  is  destroyed, 
reason  loses  its  power,  and  the  man  becomes  a  brute  or 
demon.  Such  is  the  work  of  sin,  when  sin  is  left  to  run  its 
course,  imchecked  by  any  influences  of  truth  and  virtue.  Who 
would  not  wish  for  rescue,  and  for  rest,  from  this  turmoil  of 
his  own  natural  elements,  this  war  of  sinful  appetites  and 
passions  ?  Who  would  not  desire  some  remedy  or  antidote 
for  the  ruin  which  sin  has  introduced  into  the  soul  ?  Where 
then  shall  the  soul,  burdened  with  conscious  guilt,  find  rest 
and  peace  ? 

lY.  The  answer  can  be  found  only  in  Christ.  I  will  give 
you  rest.  Come  unto  me,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart, 
and  ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your  souls.  I  Avill  give  true  rest 
unto  the  soul,  perfect  rest  to  the  agitated  passions.  Christ 
speaks,  and  there  is  a  great  calm  ;  the  "  possessed  "  is  in  his 
right  mind  ;  the  oil  of  grace  is  on  the  waters.  IIow  beautiful 
the  sea,  when  the  storm  is  over  and  the  waters  at  rest — the 
moonbeams  reposing  softly  on  its  deep  bosom,  or  the  morning 
sun  sparkling  in  the  light  waves  that  play  on  its  surface. 
Even  so  is  the  tranquilized  spirit — tranquil  on  its  surface,  with 
heaven  reflected  in  its  depths.  The  unsettled  aftections,  once 
straying  from  object  to  object,  uneasy  and  dissatisfied,  are  now 
fixed  on  God.  "  Great  peace  have  they,  they  that  love  thy 
law,"  says  the  psalmist.  There  is  rest  to  the  conscience,  that 
peace  of  God  which  passeth  all  understanding.  "  Peace  I 
leave  with  you,"  says  Christ ;  "  my  peace  I  give  unto  you,  not 
as  the  world  giveth,  giv^e  I  unto  you."  There  is  rest  from 
sin  and  temptation.     It  is  begun  now,  but  perfected  in  glory. 


CHEIST'S  GRACIOUS  INVITATION.  407 

Tliis  is  that  eternal  rest  which  remains  for  the  people  of  God, 
rest  from  all  that  annoyed  us  here  below,  rest  in  the  bosom  of 
our  God.  What  glorious  rest !  Come  unto  me,  and  you  shall 
obtain  it. 

Now,  is  not  this  rest  needed  by  all  ?  There  lives  not  a  man 
who  is  always  free  from  inward  conflict.  It  may  seem  to  be 
transitory ;  but  it  is  nevertheless  there,  deep  and  abiding  in 
the  soul.  It  is  in  this  condition  of  disquiet  and  unrest  that  the 
Saviour's  invitation  comes  to  us,  and  his  promise  meets  our 
conscious  wants.  Come  unto  me,  and  I  will  give  you  rest. 
It  is  thus  that  he  speaks  to  the  deepest  wants  of  our  nature, 
and  has  j^rovided  relief  from  the  crushing  and  cruel  bondage 
of  sin  and  Satan.  But  you  must  hunger  and  thirst  after  right- 
eousness before  you  can  be  filled ;  you  must  feel  the  dreadful 
disease  of  your  nature  before  the  physician  can  heal ;  you  must 
be  convicted  of  your  sin  before  you  can  be  pardoned  and 
made  holy  ;  you  must  feel  the  burden  before  you  can  desire  or 
enjoy  rest.  This  is  the  order  of  nature  and  of  grace — appetite 
before  food.  All  provisions  are  for  corresponding  desires. 
Hence  all  good  men  have  been  weary  and  heavy  laden  with 
their  sins,  before  they  came  to  Christ  for  rest.  David  found  it 
so ;  the  publican  found  it  so ;  the  prodigal  son  found  it  so ; 
and  so  must  it  be  with  us. 


XXIII. 

THE  NECESSITY  OF  REGENERATION. 


John  iii.  3. — "Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  him,  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto 
thee,  Except  a  man  be  born  again  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God." 


God  is  a  spirit.  His  govermuent  is  spiritual,  his  service 
spiritual;  and  they  that  worship  him,  must  worship  him  in 
spirit  and  in  truth.  His  law  is  spiritual,  exceedingly  broad, 
reaching  the  thoughts  and  intents  of  the  heart.  The  kingdom 
of  heaven  is  a  spiritual  kingdom ;  its  employments  and  pleas- 
ures are  all  spiritual ;  its  inhabitants  are  holy  and  happy  spirits 
who,  from  their  creation,  have  been  pure  intelligences,  or  who, 
ouce  manacled  in  clay,  have  burst  their  fetters  and  risen  to  re- 
fined and  si^iritual  enjoyments  above.  NTow,  we  might  con- 
clude clearly  from  the  character  of  God,  and  from  his  law  and 
kingdom,  that  the  nature  of  our  preparation  for  heaven  would 
be,  in  some  measure,  correspondent  to  the  nature  of  the  king- 
dom to  be  prepared  for  us.  The  birth  here  spoken  of  is  a 
spiritual  birth,  an  internal  change,  not  an  outward  act  or  con- 
dition. But  in  the  present  age  of  fi-ee  and  bold  inquiry,  keen 
and  searching  scrutiny,  when  all  opinions  are  questioned,  all 
points  assailed,  we  are  forced  to  go  back  again  to  first  princi- 
ples ;  examine  afresh  questions  which  were  settled  years  ago ; 
and  lay  anew  the  foundations  of  our  faith.  Such  questions  are 
before  us  to-day,  as  to  the  nature  of  the  new  birth  spoken  of 
in  the  text,  as  a  necessary  preparation  for  heaven. 

In  the  dark  ages  of  Popery  a  dreamy  mysticism  prevailed, 
which  saw  strange  mysteries  in  the  sacrament.  To  the  Lord's 
supper  and  baptism  it  attributed  strange  efficacy,  instead  of  see- 
ing a  wise  adaptation  to  the  character  of  man,  addressing  tlu 


THE   XKCKSSITY   OF   REGEXERATIOX.  409 

mind  through  tlie  senses.  Hence  bre.id  and  wine  blessed  by 
the  priest  assumed  new  sacredness,  acquired  new  qualities,  and 
wrought  strange  wonders  by  a  secret  power;  while  the  holy 
water  of  baptism,  w^ith  virtue  scarcely  less  amazing,  wrought 
prodigies  scarcely  less  miraculous.  And  in  all  ages  and  in  all 
countries,  Jewish,  Papal,  Pagan,  Protestant — from  the  formal 
Pharisee  to  the  fanatical  Anabaptist ;  from  the  pilgrim  to  Jeru- 
salem or  Mecca,  and  the  selt-immolator  at  the  car  of  Jugger- 
naut, to  tbe  comfortable  citizen  who  takes  his  easy  walk  or 
pleasant  ride  to  the  spacious  church,  to  hear  a  silken  sermon, 
on  velvet  cushions;  from  the  offerer  of  sacrifices  to  the  oflerer 
of  prayers ;  from  him  who  washes  away  sin  with  the  blood 
that  streams  from  his  lacerated  body,  to  him  that  washes  it 
away  with  flowing  water — has  been  exhibited  the  same  uni- 
versal tendency,  to  substitute  some  outward  service  for  the 
religion  of  the  heart.  Now  we  must  be  permitted  to  express 
our  unfeigned  astonishment ;  not  that  this  is  indulged  as  a  feel- 
ing natural  to  the  hu-nan  heart,  but  that,  in  an  enlightened 
age,  in  a  Protestant  nation,  it  should  be  avowed  as  a  sentiment, 
expressed  in  w^ords,  formed  into  a  system,  urged  as  an  article 
of  faith,  and  boldly  vindicated  as  a  thing  that  may  challenge 
investigation. 

We  say,  it  is  aston'sldng  that  this  should  be  done  in  a  Prot- 
estant nation ;  because  it  was  on  this  doctrine  of  spiritual  re- 
ligion— the  religion  of  the  heart  as  opposed  to  outward  forms, 
that  the  great  battle  of  the  Reformation  was  fought ;  as  Sir 
James  Mackintosh  well  observes.  This  was  the  fundamental 
principle  of  all  Protestantism.  Here  Luther  took  his  stand, 
and  laid  this  as  the  broad  foundation  of  all  moral  and  religious 
truth.  Man  is  not  justified,  saved,  and  morally  approved  by 
God  for  any  outward  act  or  acts,  but  on  the  ground  of  inward 
principle  or  character.  We  say,  it  is  astonishing  that  this 
should  be  done  in  an  enlightened  ane ;  because  this  principle, 
so  plainly  avowed,  so  successfully  defended,  so  widely  diffused 
by  Luther  and  his  coadjutors,  has  been  received  and  adopted 
in  all  our  modern  histoi'ies,  and  in  all  our  schools  of  philosophy ; 
incorporated  in  our  very  civilization  and  recognized  as  funda- 
]8 


410  THE  NKCESSITY    OF    REGEXERATION. 

mental  truth  by  all  writers  on  moral  science,  whether  infidel 
or  Christian,  till  it  has  become,  as  it  were,  the  common  patri- 
mony of  mankind.  Like  the  light  of  day,  it  radiates  indeed 
from  tlie  sun  ;  yet  men  enjoy  its  beams  without  reflecting  on 
the  source  from  which  it  comes. 

I.  The  new  birth  is  the  necessary  preparation  of  the  soul  for 
heaven.  To  the  opinion,  then,  which  makes  it  an  outward  rite, 
we  object,  that  it  is  a  palpable  absurdity,  utterly  subversive  of 
all  the  settled  principles  of  morals  and  religion,  alike  abhor- 
rent to  all  the  teachings  of  revelation,  and  the  dictates  of 
reason.  If  there  be  anyone  truth  on  earth,  more  incontrover- 
tible than  all  besides,  sustained  by  the  universal  assent  of 
mankind,  forced  on  the  convictions  of  all  rational  men,  by  its 
own  intrinsic  evidence,  it  is  that  the  seat  of  religion  is  in  the 
heart,  and  not  in  the  outward  man ;  that  the  Divine  law  is  de- 
signed to  regulate  the  moral  feelings  and  character  of  man ; 
and  that,  only  as  a  moral  being,  is  he  the  subject  of  a  moral 
government,  of  reward  and  punishment,  of  approbation  or  cen- 
sure. Hence  the  kingdom  of  God  is  not  meat  and  drink,  as 
consisting  in  any  outward  or  material  thing,  but  righteousness 
and  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost.  For  the  kingdom  of 
God,  said  our  Saviour,  is  within  you. 

There  are  indeed  two  kingdoms — the  natural,  material  king- 
dom, and  a  spiritual  kingdom.  They  are  as  different  as  matter 
and  mind;  as  far  apart  as  heaven  and  earth.  Each  has  its 
own  separate  laws.  The  body  is  matter,  and  belongs  to  one ; 
the  mind  is  spirit,  and  belongs  to  the  other.  Keligion  is  not  a 
eystem  of  material  laws.  It  is  not  a  system  of  mechanics,  to 
regulate  the  play  of  pulleys,  tendons,  joints,  and  grooves;  not 
SL  system  of  hydrostatics,  to  regulate  the  motion  of  fluids ; 
nor  a  physiology,  to  control  the  operations  of  internal  viscera, 
glands,  and  secretions ;  but  a  system  of  moral  rules  and  prin- 
ciples, to  regulate  the  conduct  of  moral  agents ;  and  of  these 
the  heart  or  spirit  is  the  only  proper  object.  The  law  of  God 
passes  by  all  these  grosser  elements,  which  are  the  mere  in- 
btruments  of  the  man,  and  not  the  man  himself,  and  drives 
licme  upon  the  heart ;  there  utters  its  voice ;  there  stretches 


THE  NECESSITY   OF   REGENERATION.  411 

forth  its  sceptre.  The  eye  of  God,  seeing  not  as  man  sees, 
pierces  through  all  the  outward  fihns  of  the  flesh,  and  looks 
deep  down  into  the  heart.  If  all  be  right  within,  God  and  the 
soul  are  satisfied. 

Brethren,  can  it  be  necessary  to  argue  such  points  as  these? 
Have  you  forgotten  that  solemn  call  of  God,  "  Son,  give  me  thy 
heart?"  Have  you  forgotten  that  earnest  Avarning,  '*Keep 
thy  heart  with  all  diligence ;  for  out  of  it  are  the  issues  of 
life  ?  "  Have  you  forgotten  that  indignant  expostulation  of  our 
Saviour,  in  Mark  vii.  18,  "Are  ye  so  without  understanding 
also  ?  Do  ye  not  perceive,  that  whatsoever  thing  from  with- 
out, entereth  into  the  man,  it  cannot  defile  him :  because  it  en- 
tereth  not  into  his  heart.  But  that  which  cometli  out  of  the 
man,  that  defileth  him.  For,  from  within,  out  of  the  heart  of 
man,  proceed  evil  thoughts,  adulteries,  fornications,  murders, 
thefts,  covetousness,  wickedness,  deceit,  lasciviousness,  an  evil 
eye,  blasphemy,  pride,  foolishness  ;  all  these  evil  things  come 
from  within,  and  defile  the  man."  Or  have  you  forgotten  that 
positive  and  comprehensive  assertion,  that  "  love  is  the  fulfil- 
ling of  the  law."  The  principle  is  not  confined  to  religion, 
but  is  spread  over  the  whole  field  of  human  thought  and  hu- 
man intercourse.  In  all  things  it  is  the  heart  we  require, 
whether  in  friend  or  benefactor.  If  that  be  right,  all  is  right. 
If  that  be  wanting,  all  is  wrong.  We  value  the  external  act, 
only  as  it  is  the  mmifestation  of  the  inward  feeling,  and  the 
instrument  of  the  inward  man.  The  eye  kindles,  the  hand 
stretches  out  its  cordial  salutation  and  hearty  w^elcome,  but  all 
the  virtue  resides  in  the  soul.  These  outward  manifestations 
please  us,  only  as  they  are  indications  of  the  heart  within. 
Suppose  that  in  any  of  these  outward  manifestations  you  found 
there  was  no  heart.  You  would  only  abhor,  with  deeper  de- 
testation, the  mere  appearance  of  good-will.  So  all  apparent 
kindness,  if  discovered  to  be  done  in  hatred  or  parade,  only 
chills  us  the  more  by  its  heartless  hypocrisy.  So  when  relieved 
by  another's  helping  liand,  or  defended  from  danger  by  his 
strong  arm  or  sword — it  matters  not — these  are  but  instruments, 
and  if  no  heartfelt  kindness  prompted  the  act,  we  can  feel  no 


412  THE   XECESSITY   OF   REGEXERATIOX. 

pleasure  in  it.  On  the  other  hand,  if  wounded  by  anotlier 
without  design,  we  may  feel  the  discomfort  of  physical  pain, 
but  our  moral  nature  forbids  displeasure.  The  disabled  friend, 
with  good  wishes  and  warm  affections,  who  would  help  us,  but 
cannot,  we  value  more,  even  in  his  impotence,  than  all  the 
heartless  favors  of  the  great.  He  may  have  no  arm  to  save 
us,  no  money  with  which  to  help  us,  yet  feeling  that  his  heart 
is  with  us,  we  have  that  which  we  more  highly  prize. 

But  God  needs  not  these  outward  manifestations.  He  looks 
directly  at  the  heart,  knows  all  that  is  within  the  heart,  and 
deals  with  it  accordingly.  Whenever,  under  the  old  or  new 
dispensation,  men  confounded,  mistook,  or  substituted  the  sign 
for  the  thing  signified,  the  outward  act  for  the  inward  feeling, 
the  shadow  for  the  substance,  the  shell  for  the  kernel.  He  makes 
it  the  subject  for  the  most  earnest  expostulation,  the  keenest 
reproofs,  the  deepest  and  most  fearful  denunciations.  It  was 
for  this  especially  that  the  Saviour  poured  forth  that  torrent  of 
bitterest  sarcasm,  and  of  fiercest  indignation,  against  the 
Scribes  and  Pharisees,  as  hypocrites  and  whited  sepulchres. 
Substituting  outward  washing  for  inward  purity,  they  Avere 
scrupulously  exact  in  tithing  mint,  anise,  and  cummin,  while 
they  left  undone  the  weightier  matters  of  the  law:  judgment, 
mercy,  and  faith.  From  the  very  o])posite  view,  he  praised 
the  young  ruler  who  on  a  certain  occasion  approached  liim 
with  humility,  candor,  and  sincerity,  and  said:  "-Thou  art  not 
far  from  the  kingdom  of  heaven," 

n.  The  opinion  that  the  new  birth  consists  in  anything  out- 
ward, or  any  outward  action,  contradicts  all  the  representa- 
tions of  Scripture.  It  would  be  easy  to  show  by  a  multi- 
tude of  passages,  all  bearing  on  this  subject,  that  the  Scripture 
demands  inward  purity  or  holiness  of  heart.  The  Bible  rep- 
resents all  outward  rites  and  ceremonies  as  being  but  tlie 
signs  and  symbols  of  internal  purification,  not  as  substitutes 
for  or  producers  of  inward  holiness.  Especially  was  this  the 
case  with  the  rite  of  circumcision,  and  the  various  sacrifices  of 
the  Old  Testament  economy.  And  equally  so  is  it  with  the 
two  great  ordinances  of  the  Xew  Testament,  baptism  and  the 


THE   NECESSITY   OF  REGENERATION.  413 

Lord's  Slipper.  Bread  and  wine  are  simply  emblems  to 
sliadow  forth  the  body  and  blood  of  Christ,  -which  must  be 
received  by  faith  alone,  springing  from  the  heart  of  the  be- 
liever. The  water  of  baptism  is  but  the  sign  of  that  washing 
of  regeneration  and  renewing  of  tlie  Holy  Ghost  which  must 
be  wrought  in  tlie  heart  of  the  believer.  But  the  Jews  were 
constantly  inclined  to  exalt  the  external  above  the  internal, 
substituting  circumcision  and  sacrifice  for  that  piety  of  the 
heart  which  they  were  intended  to  secure.  Thus  when  they 
offered  to  God  this  mere  lip-service,  he  spurned  them  indig- 
nantly away,  on  tlie  ground  that  he  required  the  heart,  and 
not  sacrifices  and  vain  obhitions. 

AVe  see  then  tliat  regeneration  is  a  great  spiritual  change,  a 
renovation  of  man's  wliole  nature  and  character,  without 
which  he  cannot  enter  into  life.  "Marvel  not  that  I  said  unto 
thee  ye  must  be  born  again."  *'  Except  a  man  be  born  again, 
he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God."  The  necessity  for  such 
a  change  in  man  may  be  argued  from  the  nature  of  God,  from 
the  character  of  the  Son  of  God,  and  from  the  nature  of  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,  Avhose  inhabitants  and  employments  are 
all  lioly.  We  have  seen  tlie  fallacy  of  that  opinion,  which 
represents  the  new  birth  as  an  outward  rite,  tracing  it  to  its 
double  origin,  in  the  dreamy  mysticism  of  the  dark  ages,  when 
men  saw  secret  and  mysterious  powers  in  holy  water  and  con- 
secrated bread,  and  in  the  universal  disposition  of  uncon- 
verted man  to  substitute  outward  form  for  inward  holiness. 
We  have  seen  that  the  first  intuitive  principle  of  all  religion 
is,  that  the  seat  of  piety  must  be  in  the  heart ;  and  that  the 
first  great  truth  in  all  morals  is,  tliat  man  is  the  subject  of 
moral  government,  in  his  moral  and  spiritual  nature.  We 
have  seen  how  fully  these  principles  are  recognized  in  the 
Bible,  which  represents  the  outward  rites  of  religion,  not  as 
substitutes  for  inward  holiness,  nor  as  producers  of  holiness, 
nor  as  holiness  itself,  but  as  signs,  symbols,  and  seals  of  in- 
ward character. 

If  now  any  one  should  assert  that  an  outward  rite,  as  that 
of  baptism,  produces    regeneration  (abandoning  the   position 


414  THE  NECESSITY  OF  REGENERATION. 

tliat  it  is  regeneration),  tliis  last  absurdity  is  as  great  as  the 
first,  and  liable  to  tlie  same  objection.  For,  as  in  the  doc- 
trine of  transubstantiation,  it  attributes  to  water  qualities  and 
powers  not  before  existing,  and  impalpable  to  our  senses — 
thus  making  a  miracle  when  we  see  no  miracle.  We  shall  not 
delay  you  by  discussing,  at  greater  length,  an  opinion  which 
carries  its  own  condemnation  so  obviously  along  with  it,  and 
which,  to  be  refuted,  needs  only  to  be  stated  and  clearly  under- 
stood. We  therefore  briefly  remark  on  this  subject :  First,  that 
justification  and  salvation  are  never  connected  with  baptism, 
or  any  other  outward  rite  alone,  but  always  with  some  inward 
principle.  Secondly,  that  punishment  is  never  threatened  for 
the  want  of  baptism  alone,  but  of  something  else  inward  and 
spiritual.  Thirdly,  that  there  are  cases,  in  Scripture,  of  some 
who  were  baptized  with  water  and  not  saved,  as  Judas  and 
Simon  Magus ;  while  some  have  received  the  Holy  Spirit  and 
been  saved  without  this  outward  baptism,  as  the  patriarchs 
and  prophets,  and  the  penitent  thief  on  the  cross.  Fourthly, 
that  it  is  against  the  whole  drift  and  tenor  of  the  Gospel, 
which  represents  sin  as  an  internal  disease,  for  which  it  pro- 
vides an  inward  remedy ;  as  a  moral  disorder,  for  which  it 
provides  a  moral  cure ;  as  a  deep  malady  of  tlie  spirit,  for 
which  it  offers  spiritual  relief. 

We  have  so  often,  and  at  such  great  length,  recently  spoken  of 
the  nature  of  true  religion  as  the  image  of  God  on  the  heart  and 
the  life  of  God  in  the  soul ;  as  a  transition  from  darkness  to  light 
and  from  death  to  life ;  as  a  new  creation  by  the  mighty  power 
of  God,  that  I  need  not  delay  you  longer  on  this  branch  of  the 
subject,  but  proceed  at  once  to  consider  other  points.  Ye 
must  be  born  again.  There  are  many  men,  as  we  are  well 
aware,  before  w^hose  minds  this  whole  subject  lies  wrapped  in 
impenetrable  mystery.  Like  Nicodemus,  they  believe  Christ 
to  be  a  teacher  sent  from  God.  They  are  won  by  the  beauty 
of  his  pure  and  elevated  morality,  astonished  at  the  sublimity 
of  Divine  instruction,  convinced  by  the  evidence  of  his  stu- 
pendous miracles,  and  captivated  by  the  blended  dignity  and 
gentleness,  humility  and  grandeur  of  his  unrivalled  character. 


THE  NECESSITY   OF  REGENERATION^.  415 

They  have  witnessed  tlie  benign  influence  of  his  Gospel  on 
society  around  tlieni.  They  have  seen  it  casting  over  the 
violence  of  angry  passions  the  cliarms  of  its  restraints,  more 
potent  than  the  terrors  of  the  law,  or  the  fetters  and  dungeons 
of  despotic  power.  Tliey  liave  marked  it  at  the  bed  of  sickness, 
and  in  the  houseof  mourning,  breathing  its  own  sweet  serenity 
into  the  troubled  bosom,  kindling  the  pallid  cheek  of  disease, 
brightening  the  eye  of  sorrow,  and,  by  its  exalted  hopes,  rob- 
bing death  of  its  sting  and  the  grave  of  its  victory.  History 
also  has  told  them  of  still  greater  wonders,  which  it  has  wrought 
on  a  wider  theatre,  and  down  through  the  lapse  of  past  ages, 
as,  issuing  from  Judea,  it  went  forth  from  country  to  country, 
visiting  only  to  bless,  civilizing  barbarous  tribes,  banishing 
bloody,  impure,  and  idolatrous  superstitions,  casting  into  new 
mould  and  pervading  with  new  spirit  all  the  institutions  of 
mankind.  They  have  seen  it  giving  freedom  to  civilized  gov- 
ernment, purity  to  domestic  life,  humanity  to  war  itself — the 
very  sun  and  centre  of  the  social  system,  ever  beaming  from 
lieaven,  and,  though  obscured  for  a  season,  yet  bursting  forth 
again,  the  source  of  light  and  warmth  and  life  to  all.  All 
this  they  have  known  and  pondered  ;  and  they  regard  with 
real  respect,  nay,  with  reverence  and  admiration,  the  author  of 
a  system  so  widely  diftused,  so  powerfully  influential,  so  ad- 
mirably adapted  to  the  condition  an<l  character  of  man,  so 
replete  with  all  blessings  to  the  earth ;  and  so  they  come  with 
sincere  interest,  and  with  respectful  deference,  to  inquire  of 
this  great  teacher  in  Israel. 

But  behold  what  amazement,  what  hopeless  perplexity  and 
dismay  they  feel,  when  they  hear  the  Saviour  say,  "Verily, 
verily,  I  say  unto  thee,  exce])t  a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot 
see  the  kingdom  of  God."  It  sounds  to  them  like  the  strange 
language  of  an  unknown  land,  like  the  indistinct  and  myste- 
rious muttering  of  an  unknown  oracle,  awful  and  terriflc,  but 
unintelligible ;  and  they  exclaim  with  Nicodemus,  How  can 
these  things  be  ? 

But  mark  the  gentleness  at  once  and  wisdom  of  the  Saviour. 
He  does  not  drive  him  from  his  presence  ;  he  does  not  sternly 


410  THE  NECESSITY   OF  REGEXERATIOX. 

rebuke  his  incredulity;  nor  authoritatively  command  his  belief 
of  a  proposition  which  his  reason  honestly  but  inconsistently 
rejects.  But  he  kindly  stoops  to  reason  with  him,  to  remove 
his  difficulties,  to  relieve  his  scruples;  and,  with  that  quick 
and  felicitous  tact  which  ever  distinguished  him  as  a  teacher, 
he  seizes  at  once  the  principle  of  the  objection,  and,  with  the 
rapid  glance  of  one  to  whom  the  whole  economy  of  the  uni- 
verse was  known,  he  refers  directly  to  analogous  cases  in  our 
daily  experience,  to  show  the  futility  of  the  objection.  Xico- 
demus  came  by  night.  The  mild  air  of  the  evening  was  then 
breatliing  around  them,  so  deHglitful  after  the  oppressive  heat 
of  an  Eastern  sun.  His  objection  was,  how  can  an  invisible 
cause  produce  a  cliange  in  human  character,  itself  as  invisible 
as  the  cause  which  produces  it?  And  as  they  enjoyed  tlie  lux- 
ury of  this  cool,  refreshing  bi'eeze,  the  Saviour  directs  his  at- 
tention to  the  undoubted  instance  of  the  operation  of  a  cause, 
whose  origin  is  unknown,  whose  progress  cannot  be  traced  ; 
and  yet  its  results  are  most  important  and  undeniable.  That 
breath  of  air  which  whispers  through  the  lattice,  murmurs 
amidst  the  vines,  and  rustles  the  leaves — whence  has  it  come, 
to  fan  your  cheek  and  cool  your  brow?  From  the  distant 
sea,  over  the  mountain's  top,  through  the  lonely  valley,  amidst 
forests  and  groves,  flowers  and  vineyards,  it  has  Avandered, 
nourishing  man  and  beast,  vegetable,  tree,  and  Hower.  But 
who  is  able  to  trace  its  course  and  tell  its  wanderings?  Who 
can  explain  its  coming  and  its  going  ?  "  The  wind  bloweth 
where  it  listeth,  and  thou  hearest  the  sound  thereof,  but  canst 
not  tell  whence  it  cometh,  or  whither  it  goeth.  So  is  everyone 
lliat  is  born  of  the  Spirit."  The  argument  is,  if  you  can  be- 
lieve in  the  facts  of  the  material  world,  and  in  the  common 
experiences  of  daily  lite,  without  being  able  to  understand  all 
tlie  strange  and  inexplicable  processes  connected  with  them; 
why  should  you  be  filled  with  wonder  and  incredulity,  in  ref- 
erence to  tlie  things  of  the  spiritual  and  eternal  world  !  Be- 
lieving, as  you  profess  to  do,  that  I  am  a  teacher  come  from 
God,  marvel  not  tliat  I  said  unto  you,  Ye  must  be  born  again. 


XXIV. 

THE  HELPLESS  DEPPwAVlTY  OF  MAN". 


Job  xiv.  4. — "  Who  can  bring  a  clean  thing  out  of  an  unclean?     Not  one. 


There  is  an  extraordinary  depth,  an  awful  solemnity,  one 
might  almost  say  a  terrible  and  sublime  audacity,  in  the  views 
which  the  Bible  presents  of  the  condition  of  our  fallen  nature. 
It  boldly  approaches  the  subject  and  looks  it  directly  in  the 
face,  in  all  its  vast  extent,  and  all  its  appalling  difficulties.  It 
denies  nothing,  it  conceals  nothing,  it  palliates  nothing.  It 
repudiates  altogether  the  language  of  a  feeling  and  fjistidious 
philanthropy,  of  a  false  and  fashionable  and  superficial  phi- 
losophy, and  comes  forth  with  its  own  broad  and  sweeping 
annunciation  of  the  total  wreck  and  ruin  of  our  nature — a  ruin 
coeval  with  the  origin  of  our  race  and  co-extensive  with  all  its 
families.  It  proclaims  a  helplessness  which  is  co-extensive 
with  this  ruin — a  helplessness  as  total  as  the  ruin  is  complete. 
It  tells  of  a  "carnal  mind  which  is  enmity  against  God,  which 
is  not  subject  to  the  law  of  God,  neither  indeed  can  ^e/"  of 
a  "  natural  man  that  receiveth  not  the  things  of  the  spirit  of 
God,  neither  can  he  know  them,  because  they  are  spiritually 
discerned." 

The  great  Physician  does  not  shrink  from  probing  the  wound 
to  the  bottom.  He  passes  from  the  outward  symptoms  to  the 
deep-seated  inward  malady,  from  the  transient  manifestation 
to  the  central  and  permanent  source  of  ruin,  and  lays  bare  the 
foul  disease  which  is  festering  amidst  the  vitals,  in  all  its  re- 
volting and  hideous  malignity.  He  traces  it  up  to  its  origin 
in  that  first  sin  of  the  first  man,  the  head  and  representative 
18* 


418  THE   HELPLESS   DEPRAVITY  OF  MAX. 

of  our  race,  which  brought  death  into  the  worhl  and  all  our 
woe.  "  As  by  one  man  sin  entered  into  the  world,  and  death 
by  sin,  so  death  hath  passed  upon  all  men,  because  all  have 
sinned."  He  tells  us  of  that  moral  pestilence  which,  descend- 
ing from  this  first  man  through  successive  generations,  has 
reached  the  whole  of  his  posterity ;  of  the  deadly  virus  of  sin 
which  has  entered  our  system,  and  now  mingles  with  our 
whole  circulation,  flows  in  the  veins,  throbs  in  the  arteries, 
beats  at  the  heart,  flashes  in  the  eyes,  burns  in  the  brain,  and 
reaching  every  faculty  and  every  element  of  our  being,  has 
poisoned  and  polluted  all :  till  the  understanding  is  shrouded 
in  darkness,  and  the  affections  are  seduced  from  their  allegi- 
ance to  God.  Amidst  the  wild  uproar  of  the  tumultuous  and 
insurgent  passions,  amidst  the  blackness  of  this  moral  mid- 
night, reason  is  dethroned,  and  conscience  silenced,  and  the 
will  subjugated;  and  every  faculty  and  power  of  our  fallen 
nature  is  mustered  beneath  the  standard  of  a  high-handed 
rebellion  against  God,  and  assumes  the  attitude  of  a  proud 
defiance. 

There  is,  we  know,  a  puerile  and  Pelagian  philosophy  whicli 
is  the  reverse  of  all  this.  It  sees  only  upon  earth  individual 
men  and  individual  actions.  It  isolates  individual  man  from 
the  race  of  which  he  is  a  member,  and  individual  action  from 
the  Avhole  course  and  current  of  his  acts  and  feeliiigs.  It 
would  wrench  out  the  individual  man  from  all  his  relations  to 
the  species  to  which  he  belongs,  and  the  individual  act  from 
the  whole  life  of  which  it  is  a  part,  and  from  that  inward 
and  permanent  source  and  principle  of  action,  of  which  it  is 
only  the  external  and  transient  manifestation.  On  this  we  re- 
mark, in  passing,  that  it  professes  to  be  a  philosophy,  and  yet 
denies  itself  in  the  very  terms  of  its  annunciation.  There  can 
be  no  philosophy  of  isolated  beings  or  isolated  acts.  It  is 
of  the  very  essence  of  philosophy  that  it  seeks  to  mount  up  to 
higher  principles,  to  discover  universal  laws.  It  is  based  upon 
the  instinctive  conviction,  that  there  is  a  stupendous  unity  in 
God's  universe,  a  mighty  purpose  and  a  comprehensive  plan, 
which  embraces  not  only  atoms  but  worlds,  not  only  individuals 


THE   HELPLESS   DEPRAVITY   OF   MAX.  419 

but  species;  that  binds  together  these  atoms  into  a  world, 
these  individuals  into  a  species,  all  participants  of  the  same 
nature,  subject  to  the  same  laws,  heirs  of  the  same  glorious  or 
learful  destiny,  with  a  common  ruin  and  a  common  remed5^ 

Again,  it  solves  the  mystery  of  human  depravity,  by  multi- 
plying that  mystery  indefinitely,  by  all  the  millions  multi- 
plied by  other  millions  of  all  past  and  future  generations  of 
mankind.  It  is  in  each  a  separate  and  ever-recurring  mystery. 
Again,  it  explains  the  origin  of  evil,  the  darkest  problem  that 
overshadows  and  perplexes  human  reason,  by  gravely  assuring 
us  that  each  act  of  sin  originates  itself.  Such  is  not  the  phi- 
losophy of  the  Bible,  or  of  common  sense.  Both  assure  us 
that  the  man,  by  the  very  law  of  his  birth  which  constitutes 
him  man,  inherits  the  nature  of  his  race  ;  that  the  outward  act 
is  only  the  expression  of  the  inward  principle ;  that  the  inward 
emotion,  desire,  passion,  however  transient,  springs  from  i\ 
principle,  a  character,  a  nature,  which  long  outlasts  these  fugi- 
tive emotions,  and  which,  when  they  are  past  and  forgotten, 
will  originate  other  similar  emotions  by  a  process  and  a 
power  as  mysterious  indeed,  yet  as  certain  as  that  which  in- 
sures that  the  peach-tree,  though  now  stripped  of  its  leaves  and 
fruit,  will  produce,  on  the  return  of  spring,  not  plums  or 
acorns,  but  its  ordinary  fruit ;  and  that  the  serpent,  now  stiff 
with  the  cold  of  winter,  will  awake  in  the  sj^ring  with  the 
serpent's  venom  and  the  serpent's  spite,  the  serpent's  glitter- 
ing skin  and  the  serpent's  fiery  eye. 

Should  any  one  object  to  this,  let  him  object  to  the  whole 
course  of  nature.  His  controversy  is  not  with  revelation,  but 
M'ith  nature,  and  we  leave  him  to  settle  it  with  the  God  of  na- 
ture. Throughout  all  creation  like  produces  like,  whether  in 
the  animal  or  vegetable  world.  The  dove  does  not  issue  from 
the  eagle's  egg,  the  fish  from  the  serpent,  the  lamb  from  the 
tiger's  dam,  nor  the  poisonous  berry  from  the  fruitful  vine. 
The  vouuGc  eaGjle  mav  be  hatched  beneath  the  domestic  fowl 
and  trained  amidst  her  timid  brood ;  yet  it  is  an  eagle  still, 
with  the  eagle's  hooked  beak,  the  eagle's  talons,  and  the  eagle's 
love  for  blood,  with  the  eagle's  eye  of  fire  and  the  eagle's 


420  THE   HELPLESS   DEPRAVITY   OF   MAN. 

pinions,  born  to  soar  above  the  clouds,  to  make  its  home  upon 
the  mountain-top,  and  seek  its  prey  amongst  the  weaker  in- 
liabitants  of  the  forest.  The  young  tiger,  before  it  has  lapped 
its  tongue  in  blood,  has  still  the  tiger's  tusks  and  thetiger's  claws, 
the  tiger's  keen  scent  and  ravenous  appetite  for  flesh,  which  in 
after-life  wakes  it  from  the  gentlest  slumbers  to  bound  forward 
in  pursuit  of  prey.  Extract  the  viper's  fang  and  its  bag  of 
poison,  it  is  a  viper  still,  with  the  serpent's  coil,  the  serpent's 
hiss,  its  tendency  to  strike,  and  the  whole  serpent-nature  dif- 
fused throughout  its  frame.  The  poisonous  shrub,  even  before 
it  lias  expanded  into  bloom  or  ripened  into  fruit,  has  its  poison- 
ous nature ;  and,  in  its  earliest  germ,  while  invisible  to  man, 
contains  the  causes  and  the  elements,  yet  undeveloped,  which 
insure  tlie  future  product — elements  and  causes  mysterious 
and  inscrutable  to  man,  to  which,  in  our  ignorance,  we  give 
the  name  of  nature.  Xor  is  there  anything  peculiarly  mys- 
terious here.  It  is  only  that  universal  mystery  Avhich  en- 
5>hrouds  all  the  ultimate  facts  in  creation,  and  constitutes  the 
boundary  of  all  human  knowledge.  We  know  nothing  of  any 
causes  directly ;  we  only  know  them  from  their  effects ;  and 
with  all  our  supposed  knowledge  of  the  external  world  around 
us,  we  only  know  that  it  is  the  cause,  the  unknown  cause,  of 
our  various  sensations.  The  sweetness  and  the  color  of  the 
rose  are  to  us  the  unknown  causes  of  our  sensations ;  and 
when  we  ask  why  the  rose  is  fragrant,  or  the  stone  falls  to  tlie 
ground,  our  only  answer  is  alike  in  either  case,  Because  such 
is  its  nature,  such  is  the  inscrutable  law  of  its  being.  No  be- 
ing can  change  its  own  nature  ;  and  if  there  be  in  man  a  de- 
praved and  corrupted  nature,  "  Who,"  says  Job,  "  can  bring  a 
clean  thing  out  of  an  unclean?" 

First.  Can  education  ?  Can  education,  even  in  its  utmost 
perfection,  based  on  a  perfect  knowledge  of  all  the  laws  and 
elements  of  the  human  mind  ?  In  the  most  successful  efforts, 
it  is  only  one  human  mind  operating  on  another.  Tlie  subject, 
agent,  and  instruments  are  only  the  same  laws  of  mind.  It 
originates  nothing,  creates  nothing.  Great  is  the  power  of 
education  in  moulding  human  character ;  equal  indeed  to  that 


TPIE    HELPLESS   DEPRAVITY   OF   MAN.  421 

of  man  in  faishioning  external  nature;  and  the  limits  of  its 
agency  are  precisely  the  same.  In  all  tlie  mightiest  changes 
produced  by  human  science,  directed  by  liuman  ingenuity,  no 
particle  of  matter  is  created.  The  machinist,  in  tlie  most 
wonderful  and  successful  efforts  of  his  skill,  employs  only  the 
known  laws  and  powers  of  matter.  The  chemist,  in  the  rarest 
and  most  beautiful  productions  of  his  science,  in  all  liis  com- 
binations and  decompositions,  even  Avhen  new  results  come 
forth  unobserved  and  unparalleled  before,  has  still  employed 
only  the  existing  elements  and  existing  laws  of  matter.  He 
may  bring  those  elements  into  new  relations  ;  and  new  suscep- 
tibilities, hitherto  unsuspected,  may  be  developed ;  but  those 
susceptibilities  were  not  then  first  created ;  though  latent, 
they  existed  long  before.  The  steam-car,  as  it  sweeps  on  its 
rapid  and  resistless  course,  is  propelled,  not  by  any  new-created 
pov/er  or  element,  but  by  the  expansive  power  of  steam. 

As  in  matter,  so  is  it  in  mind.  The  revolutions  which  have 
been  produced  by  the  agency  of  man  in  the  aspect  of  external 
nature,  prodigious  as  they  are,  are  rivalled  and  surpassed  by 
the  mightier  influence  of  mind  on  mind  in  education.  Igno- 
rance has  been  enlightened  by  knowledge,  weakness  matured 
into  strength,  rudeness  polished  into  refinement,  debasing 
superstition  exchanged  for  a  calm  philosophy,  whole  nations  of 
barbarians  elevated  to  the  dignity  of  enlightened  freemen. 
But  here,  too,  we  are  limited  in  our  agency  to  the  materials 
on  which  we  operate,  the  laws  and  elements  already  existing 
in  the  soul  of  man.  We  cannot  add  to  the  human  frame  a 
single  limb,  organ,  or  muscle  ;  not  a  gland,  even  the  minutest, 
nor  the  flimsiest  tissue.  Xor  can  we  add  to  the  human  mind 
a  single  susceptibility  or  powder,  a  single  capacity  of  thought, 
of  feeling,  or  of  action.  We  may  strengthen  what  is  weak 
by  exercise  and  healthy  nutriment;  we  may  expand,  enlarge, 
develop  what  otherwise  might  liave  remained  inactive.  We 
may  whet  the  intellect  to  logical  acuteness,  or  expand  it  into 
breadth  and  comprehension.  We  may  rouse  the  imagination 
to  a  loftier  and  bolder  flight,  and  store  it  with  images  of  beauty 
or  of  grandeur.     We  may  cultivate  the  gentler  and  more  be- 


422  THE   HELPLESS  DEPRAYITT  OF  MAX. 

nevolent  affections,  and  thus  slied  a  sweeter  grace  over  all  the 
walks  of  social  and  domestic  life.  All  this  we  may  do  ;  but 
we  can  add  no  new  element  to  the  soul  of  man  ;  and  if  there 
be  by  nature  no  principle  of  holiness  there,  education  cannot 
implant  it.  Holiness  is  a  life,  a  spiritual  life,  the  life  of  God 
in  the  soul.  Combine  and  organize  those  dead  elements  as  we 
may,  spiritual  life  we  cannot  infuse.  All  the  elements  that 
constitute  the  human  body  lie  scattered  everywhere  around 
us — in  the  earth  on  which  we  stand,  the  air  we  breatlie,  and 
the  water  which  we  drink.  Yet,  if  all  were  gathered  and  com- 
bined in  perfect  organization,  though  nature  might  supply  the 
dead  materials,  all  nature  and  all  human  power  could  not  sup- 
ply the  life.  So  in  that  sublime  vision  of  Ezekiel,  as  he  wan- 
dered through  that  valley  of  desolation,  and  beheld  the  multi- 
tude of  dry  bones  whitening  there,  though  bone  leaped  to  its 
fellow  at  the  voice  of  the  prophet,  and  the  joints  united  in 
perfect  articulation,  and  muscle  and  sinew  and  vein  and  artery, 
and  every  particle  and  every  element  had  taken  its  appropri- 
ate place,  yet  the  bodies  lay  there  before  him  a  ghastly  con- 
gregation of  the  dead,  till  the  breath  of  the  Lord  came  down, 
with  its  life-giving  power,  and  those  corpses  stood  up  as  living 
men. 

All  human  history,  for  near  six  thousand  years,  has  been 
one  vast  and  varied  experiment  on  the  power  of  education  to 
renovate  the  race.  The  mightiest  intellects,  through  these 
successive  centuries,  have  employed  all  the  resources  of  their 
genius — by  the  tongue,  the  pen,  and  the  press — to  improve 
and  reform  mankind.  They  have  produced  consummate  gen- 
erals, profound  philosophers,  gifted  orators,  and  admirable 
poets — but  not  one  man  of  God.  Human  nature  has  still  re- 
mained, in  all  its  essential  elements,  unchanged — worldly, 
sensual,  godless ;  no  tendency  to  evil  eradicated,  no  element 
of  holiness  infused.  Education  cannot  renovate  the  nature  of 
man,  cannot  bring  a  clean  thing  out  of  an  unclean. 

Let  us  not  be  supposed,  however,  to  underrate  the  value  of 
Christian  education.  Great  is  the  efhcacy  of  truly  Christian 
instruction,  the  power  of  Christian   example,  of  that  gentle 


THE   HELPLESS   DEPRAVITY   OF   UA^.  423 

piety  which  diffuses  its  hallowed  radiance  over  all  around. 
Precious  beyond  all  thought  and  all  expression  are  those  seeds 
of  truth  which  are  early  implanted  in  the  infant  mind.  But 
let  us  not  forget  that  this  efficacy  is  connected  with  God's 
promised  grace ;  that  these  germs  of  truth  must  be  quickened 
into  life  by  the  dews  of  heaven,  and  the  life-giving  beams  of 
the  Sun  of  righteousness.  I  remember,  in  my  early  youth,  to 
have  heard  a  lady  of  distinguished  family  and  great  intelligence 
say:  "  I  have  no  fear  that  my  sons  will  go  astray,  they  have 
been  too  well  educated  !  "  Beloved  brethren,  God  is  jealous  of 
his  lionor,  and  will  not  give  liis  glory  to  another,  lie  will  not 
bear  that  we  should  substitute  our  instruction  for  his  grace. 
The  very  last  and  least  of  his  redeemed  people  shall  be  shouted 
home  with  "  Grace,  grace  unto  it ; "  and  when  one  of  our 
loved  ones  is  really  brought  liome  to  God,  with  streaming  eyes 
and  grateful  hearts  we  must  acknowledge,  as  of  the  lowest  of 
people,  that  it  is  a  miracle  of  grace.  "  It  is  the  Lord's  work, 
and  marvellous  in  our  eyes." 

Secondly.  Can  eloquence  "  bring  a  clean  thing  out  of  an  un- 
clean ?  "  There  are  tones  of  the  human  voice  that  vibrate  to 
the  inmost  soul  of  man,  and  awaken  echoes  there  that  had 
slumbered  from  our  birth,  thoughts  and  feelings,  susceptibili- 
ties and  powers,  hitlierto  unknown.  There  are  words  which, 
when  "fitly  spoken,"  in  appropriate  combination,  thrill  along 
every  fibre  of  the  human  heart,  and,  as  by  some  strange  in- 
tellectual chemistry,  summon  the  hidden  elements  there  into 
new  and  often  startling  results.  Great  is  the  power  of  elo- 
quence !  There  is  not  a  chord  of  the  human  heart  which  it 
cannot  touch,  not  a  passion  which  it  cannot  arouse  or  lull. 
But  how  can  it  touch  a  chord  that  is  not  there  ?  There  are 
men  who,  with  magic  power,  can  sweep  that  instrument  of  a 
thousand  strings — the  heart  of  man — and  draw  forth  from  each 
some  tone  responsive.  But  if  the  noblest  of  them  all,  that 
which  ascends  and  is  linked  to  the  throne  of  God,  and  vibrates 
to  the  melodies  of  eternity,  hang  broken  and  tuneless  there; 
if  one  mightier  than  he  has  dashed  athwart  it  his  fiery  finger, 
and  snapped  it,  who  shall  awaken  its  lost  harmonies  ? 


XXV. 

THE  MINISTRY  OF    THE    GOSPEL. 


1  Cor.  ii.  3. — "  And  I  was  with  you  in  weakness,  and  in  fear,  and  in  much 
trembling." 

"  He  has  sold  his  birthright  for  a  mess  of  pottage."  Such 
was  tlie  profjine  and  impious  sneer,  the  contemptuous  and 
almost  blasphemous  exclamation  of  a  distinguished  lawyer 
and  politician,  on  hearing  of  the  intended  consecration  to  the 
work  of  the  ministry  of  a  beloved  Christian  brother,  now 
gone  to  his  reward,  who  devoted  the  ardor  of  early  youth 
and  the  prime  of  a  vigorous  manhood,  with  uncommon  elo- 
quence and  success,  to  the  proclamation  of  the  Gospel ;  who 
has  left  behind  him  a  long  memorial  in  the  hearts  of  multi- 
tudes converted  by  his  ministry,  and  added  to  every  grace 
that  could  adorn  the  Christian  gentleman,  every  power  of 
persuasion  and  pathos  that  could  signalize  the  consummate 
orator.  "  He  has  sold  his  birthright  for  a  mess  of  pottage.  Had 
he  builded  upon  his  father's  name,  and  his  fiither's  exalted 
reputation,  and  pursued  liis  father's  profession,  he  might  have 
erected  a  monument  of  fame  to  himself,  and  have  perpetuated 
the  honor  of  his  family." 

Such  are  generally  the  opinions,  the  feelings,  and  the  lan- 
guage of  worldly  men  in  regard  to  the  ministry  of  the  Gos- 
pel ;  and  not  very  different  from  this  may  be  the  feelings  of 
some  amongst  ourselves,  who  can  with  difficulty  escape  the 
voice  of  conscience,  and  the  claims  of  a  perishing  world  upon 
their  sympathy  and  efforts.  And,  my  brethren,  we  are  glad 
that  it  is  so;  from  our  inmost  soul  we  are  glad  that  it  is  so. 


THE    MINISTRY    OF    THE    GOSPEL.  425 

We  are  cjlad  that  the  Gospel  ministry  is  still  a  self-denj-ing 
and  self-sacrificing  work;  tliat  it  lias  no  splendors  to  dazzle 
the  young  and  the  aspiring;  no  emoluments  to  bribe  the 
w(M-ldly  and  the  venal;  that  the  cross  is  still  a  burden  to  be 
borne — the  badge  of  meanness  in  the  eyes  of  worldly  men, 
tlie  object  of  derision  and  reproach,  not  the  symbol  of  power 
or  the  passport  to  fame.  It  is  thus  that  the  Saviour  watches 
over  the  purity  of  his  church,  and  at  the  very  threshold  of 
tlie  sanctuary,  erects  a  barrier  which  usually  prevents  the 
entrance  of  those  whose  vanity  would  corrupt  the  purity  of 
her  doctrines,  whose  ambition  would  mar  the  harmony  of 
her  counsels,  or  whose  vices  would  tarnish  her  yet  unspotted 
reputation ;  thus  out  of  transient  evil-,  educing  still  enduring 
good,  and  causing  alike  the  folly  and  the  wrath  of  man  most 
signally  to  advance  the  great  purposes  of  God. 

But  how  ditferent  from  all  this  are  the  sentiments  expressed 
by  the  author  of  our  text — the  conscious  weakness,  the  felt 
unworthiness,  the  sacred  reverence,  the  trembling  awe  in  view 
of  this  high  office  !  But  who  is  this  that  yields  such  emphatic 
testimony  to  the  Gospel  ministry,  as  he  thus  shrinks  and 
trembles  in  view  of  its  transcendent  dignity,  its  arduous  du- 
ties, its  sublime  and  overwhelming  responsibilities  ?  Is  it 
some  obscure  individual  ignorant  of  mankind,  and  alike  un- 
known to  them,  who  has  lived  and  vegetated  and  died,  leaving 
behind  no  memorial  of  his  existence,  no  deep  impression  on 
his  race;  who,  unused  to  the  business  and  affairs  of  men,  and 
living  in  some  quiet  and  obscure  retreat,  was  abashed  at  the 
stare  of  crowds,  would  tremble  at  the  approach  of  danger, 
and  siidvs  in  conscious  imbecility  beneath  the  weight  of  some 
great  enterprise  ?  Answer  me  when  I  tell  you  he  was  such 
an  one  as  Paul  the  aged,  the  servant  of  God,  the  apostle  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ;  who  was  in  nothing  behind  the  very 
chiefest  of  the  apostles — in  labors  more  abundant,  in  sufferings 
above  measure,  in  gifts  pre-eminent,  in  revelations  of  the 
spirit  exalted  to  the  third  heavens,  and  privileged  to  see  and 
to  hear  unutterable  mysteries ;  in  whose  presence  Felix  trem- 
bled before  the  power  of  his  argument,  and  Agrippa   melted 


426  THE   MINISTRY   OF  THE   GOSPEL. 

beneath  the  persuasion  of  his  eloquence,  and  to  Avliom,  above 
all  other  men  of  ancient  or  of  modern  times,  was  granted  tliis 
l)igh  pre-eminence,  to  stamp  deep  and  broad  upon  the  age  in 
■which  he  lived  the  impression  of  his  character,  and  by  his 
imperishable  writings  to  guide  the  opinions  and  control  the 
destiny  of  all  succeeding  generations.  If,  then,  the  great 
Apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  gifted  as  he  was  by  nature,  improved 
as  he  was  by  education,  illuminated  by  all  human  learning 
and  Divine  revelation,was  overwhelmed  with  the  grandeur  of 
this  great  work,  and  in  view  of  the  high  and  hallowed  services 
of  the  Gospel  ministry  could  exclaim,  *'Iwas  with  you  in 
weakness  and  fear  and  great  trembling ;  "  what  shall  we  say 
of  those  who,  in  our  day,  rush  forward  with  tlioughtless  im- 
petuosity and  indecent  haste  into  all  the  solemn  responsi- 
bilities and  arduous  duties  of  this  sacred  calling  ?  Let  us 
consider,  then,  what  are  some  of  the  qualifications  and  what 
the  characteristics  of  a  ministry  which,  amidst  the  emergen- 
cies of  our  day,  and  the  crises  just  at  hand,  may  stand  forth 
before  the  world  as  the  heralds  of  the  Saviour,  "  workmen 
that  need  not  be  ashamed," — in  other  words,  a  ministry 
adapted  to  our  times. 

I.  First,  then,  we  need  a  thoroughly  devoted  and  consecrated 
ministry;  for,  consider  the  higli  and  solemn  sacredness  of  this 
great  office.  Throughout  the  Holy  Bible  the  design  is  every- 
where manifest,  to  diffuse  an  atmosphere  of  peculiar  sacred- 
ness around  the  presence  and  immediate  service  of  the  Most 
High.  When  Moses  was  called  to  be  God's  messenger  to 
Pharaoh  and  the  deliverer  of  his  people  Israel,  he  was  taught, 
by  a  most  impressive  syml)ol,  the  sacredness  that  belongs  to 
the  message  and  that  should  characterize  the  messenger.  The 
Most  High  appeared  to  him  in  fire,  the  purest  at  once  and 
the  most  terrible  of  elements,  and  as  he  approached  to  receive 
his  commission,  the  voice  of  God,  issuing  from  the  burning 
bush,  said :  "  Put  off  thy  shoes  from  thy  feet,  for  the  place 
whereon  thou  standest  is  holy  ground."  And  when  in  after- 
years,  as  the  minister  of  that  former  dispensation,  he  received 
from  the  liands  of  God  the  tables  of  the  law,  the  very  mount 


THE   MINISTRY   OF  THE   GOSPEL.  427 

on  which  the  Almighty  descended  was  consecrated  from  its 
summit  to  the  base ;  no  man  or  beast  dare  at  the  peril  of  life 
intrude  within  those  consecrated  limits  ;  and  even  Moses,  as  he 
stooii  amidst  the  agitated  elements,  and  Hipon  the  burning 
mount  where  the  Lord  himself  came  down  with  the  myriads 
of  his  holy  ones,  exclaimed :  "  I  do  exceedingly  quake  and 
tremble."  After  the  building  of  the  temple,  tlie  Holy  of  Holies 
was  closed  throughout  the  year,  and  the  visible  symbol  of 
God's  presence  there  could  only  be  approached  after  the  most 
solemn  preparation,  and  with  the  most  august  and  imposing 
ceremonies  by  the  high-priest  of  God;  and  the  misguided 
Israelite  who,  in  hasty  zeal,  put  forth  his  hand  irreverently  to 
support  the  Ark,  was  smitten  dead  upon  the  spot.  Well  might 
the  Apostle  urge  us,  in  view  of  these  indications  of  a  jealous 
God,  to  "serve  God  with  reverence  and  godly  fear,  for  our 
God  is  a  consuming  lire."  But  if  the  ministry  of  condemna- 
tion was  glorious,  how  much  more  the  ministry  of  salvation. 
These  were  all  but  the  shadows  of  which  Christ  is  the  sub- 
stance ;  and  if  the  ministry  and  ordinances  of  that  imperfect 
dispensation  were  guarded  with  such  watchful  jealousy,  en- 
circled with  such  awful  sanctity,  avenged  with  such  terrific 
retributions,  what  shall  we  say  of  that  better  covenant  of 
which  Christ  was  at  once  the  author  and  the  object,  the 
victim  and  the  priest,  the  minister  and  Lord  !  How  awful 
its  dignity !  How  solemn  its  ordinances  !  How  sacred 
its  instructions  !  How  elevated  its  hopes  !  How  pre- 
cious its  consolations !  How  august  its  revelations !  For 
the  Gos[)el  is  a  message  directly  from  the  throne  of 
Heaven  ;  and  every  minister  of  the  Gospel,  called  and 
sent  of  God,  is  an  ambassador  for  Christ.  He  stands  a 
dying  man  between  the  living  God  and  a  world  of  dying 
men.  Himself  a  sinner  saved  by  grace,  he  stands  between 
a  Holy  God  and  a  world  of  sinners.  Himself  at  best  a 
pardoned  rebel,  he  stands  between  an  offended  God  and  a 
world  of  rebels  in  open  revolt  against  his  government — abus- 
ing his  mercy,  insulting  his  majesty,  defying  his  omnipotent 
justice.      How  momentous  are  the  subjects  to   be  discussed, 


428  THE   MINISTRY   OF   THE   GOSPEL. 

ho^v  vast  are  the  interests  involved,  bow  solemn  the  respon- 
sibilities incnrred — solemn  as  the  issues  of  the  Judgment,  vast 
as  the  value  of  the  soul,  and  durable  as  its  long  and  intermi- 
nable existence  !  AYere  the  thrones  of  all  eartlily  empires  piled 
higli,  each  above  the  other,  and  all  earthly  crowns  blended 
into  one  diadem  of  glory,  these  accumulated  thrones  would 
not  reach  to  heaven  ;  and  what  were  that  radiant  diadem, 
when  compared  with  the  glory  that  encircles  the  brow  of  one 
immortal  spirit  amongst  the  millions  of  the  saved  ?  And  were 
all  the  earthly  interests  of  all  the  nations  concentrated  in  one 
single  person,  how  insignificant  would  all  appear  when  weighed 
in  the  balances  of  the  sanctuary,  and  calculated  by  the  arith- 
metic of 'heaven,  and  measured  by  the  duration  of  eternity ! 
But  the  message  Avhicli  he  bears  is  the  message  of  a  Saviour's 
love,  the  same  which  the  angels  came  to  herald,  which  the 
Lord  of  angels  came  to  bear,  which  fell  from  liis  own  heavenly 
lips,  and  beamed  from  his  own  countenance  of  radiant  love,  and 
Avas  embodied  in  his  own  mysterious  person,  and  gushed  from 
his  own  bleeding  bosom  and  bursting  heart — a  story  of  infinite 
])ity,  and  infinite  woe,  of  avenging  justice  and  redeeming 
mercy.  For.  blessed  be  God  that  our  ministry  is  a  ministry 
of  reconciliation,  and  not  of  condemnation  ;  that  the  message 
we  bear  is  one  of  unutterable  love  ;  that  the  burden  of  our 
proclamation  still  must  be  love,  amazing,  boundless,  un- 
fathomable love.  "For  God  so  loved  the  world  that 
he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son,  that  wliosoever  believ- 
eth  on  him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life." 
God  was  not  only  willing  to  be  reconciled,  but  willing  to  pay 
the  price  of  reconciliation  too.  When  there  was  no  ej^e  to 
pity,  and  no  arm  to  save,  he  was  willing  both  to  pity  and  to 
save  the  perishing. 

jNIan  brought  ruin  on  himself  by  rebelling  against  God — 
man  the  enemy  of  God,  and  thus  God  made  the  enemy  of 
man — a  creature  of  clay  arrayed  against  the  Omnipotent,  and 
thus  God  arrayed  against  him.  The  lieavens  clothed  in  black- 
ness, the  earth  quaking  in  terror,  conscience  pealing  in  thunder- 
tones,  and  perdition  gaping  to  engulf  him — who  is  the  sinner's 


THE   MIXISTRY   OF   THE   GOSPEL.  429 

sta}' ?  Cannot  mercy  plead?  Can  no  angel  intercede?  ]je- 
liold,  there  is  liel[)  laid  on  One  mighty  to  save. 

lie  comes  in  the  humility  of  man  and  the  majesty  of  God. 
The  arm  uplifted  to  destroy  us  has  fallen  ui)on  him.  The 
sword,  brandished  and  blazing  above  us,  is  bathed  in  his  own 
blood;  still  are  those  arms  outspread;  that  heart  still  beats 
Avith  love;  and  ^ye  are  commissioned  to  ]n-ay,  to  entreat,  to 
exhaust  all  argument,  and  to  do  so  in  the  name  of  God,  in 
the  name  of  Christ,  by  all  that  is  terrible  or  precious  in  heaven 
or  hell.  Vf  ell  might  we  tremble,  when  we  put  forth  the  hand 
to  the  Ark,  lest  we  perish  by  the  touch.  Well  might  we 
shrink  back  from  this  solemn  and  sacred  trust,  but  we  dare 
not;  by  our  solemn  vows,  Ave  dare  not  decline  it  oi*  be  dis- 
mayed. The  Gospel  is  mighty -through  God,  and  the  demon- 
stration of  his  spirit  and  i)Ower.  Standing,  then,  as  the  rej)- 
resentative  of  the  Saviour  upon  earth,  speaking  in  his  great 
name  and  by  his  high  authority,  moving  habitually  amidst 
these  scenes  of  tenderness  and  grandeur;  how  important  that 
the  minister  of  Christ  be  a  man  of  God,  imbued  Avitli  the 
spirit  and  bearing  the  image  of  his  Saviour  ! 

II.  The  Gospel  we  have  to  preach  is  not  an  ingenious  specu- 
lation, or  plausible  theory,  or  magnificent  hypothesis,  lending 
a  portion  of  its  own  dazzling  brilliancy  to  heighten  the  splen- 
dors of  some  rhetorical  display ;  but  a  fact,  a  solemn  and  an 
n\yt\\\  fact ;  a  sublime  and  glorious  reality,  wide  as  the  Avorld 
in  Avhich  Ave  live  and  universal  as  the  race  of  man  ;  pervad- 
ing all  human  relations,  involving  nil  human  interests,  reach- 
ing upAvard  to  the  throne  of  God,  and  downward  to  the  depths 
of  perdition,  and  onward  through  an  immeasurable  eternity, 
and  in  the  Avide  sweep  of  its  large  and  manifold  relations, 
linking  the  destiny  of  man  Avith  all  that  is  loftiest  in  the  cliar- 
acter  and  most  stupendous  in  the  energies  of  superhuman 
poAvers — the  celestial  sympathy  of  angels,  the  satanic  malig- 
nity of  fiends.  It  is  a  fact  so  vast  in  the  range  of  its  illimitable 
consequences,  so  appalling  or  so  glorious  in  its  necessary  in- 
fluences upon  human  destiny,  so  clear  in  the  evidence  of  its 
indubitable  certainty,  so    intimately  blended  Avith  the  whole 


430  THE   MINISTRY   OF  THE   GOSPEL. 

tissue  of  our  past  and  future  history,  that  in  comparison  with 
it,  all  other  facts  are  dim  and  vague  and  shadowy  and  insig- 
iiilicant.  It  is  tlie  fact  of  facts,  the  great  fact  in  each  man's 
history.  Tliat  is  no  dream  of  the  visionary  enthusiast — tlie 
ruin  of  our  race ;  but  an  awful  fact,  loudly  proclaimed  by 
every  human  conscience,  fiiithfuUy  re-echoed  by  every  known 
tradition,  broadly  and  palpably  recorded  upon  every  page  of 
history,  and  distinctly  visible  upon  the  face  of  human  society 
itself — visible  even  in  those  scattered  traces  of  beauty  and  of 
grandeur  which  remain  amid  the  ruins  they  cannot  remedy ; 
as  we  recognize  the  site  of  long-lost  cities  and  demolished 
temples  by  the  shattered  remains  of  arches  and  columns  and 
statues  peeping  irregularly  forth  from  amidst  the  rubbish  that 
entombs  them.  And  the  redemption  of  our  race — is  not  this 
a  blessed  reality  ?  which,  chronicled  amidst  the  annals  of  the 
sky,  has  already  peopled  heaven  with  millions  of  inhabitants, 
and  is  even  now  enjoyed  in  its  felt  and  palpable  reality  as  a 
living,  present,  actual  salvation  by  millions  of  redeemed  sin- 
ners upon  earth  ?  And  all  the  solemn  verities  of  our  Gospel 
— are  they  not  stupendous  facts,  that  encompass  us  on  every 
side,  and  overshadow  with  a  serene  and  heavenly  awe  our 
whole  earthly  being  ?  Truly,  the  realities  of  our  existence 
surpass  the  prodigies  of  fiction.  We  live  amidst  a  scene  of 
wonders.  Is  not  there  the  broad  heaven,  spread  out  above  us 
in  serene  and  solemn  grandeur,  with  its  millions  of  peopled 
worlds  looking  down  silently  upon  us?  And  are  there  not 
here  millions  of  immortal  spirits  around  us  moulding  at  this 
very  hour  their  everlasting  destinies  ?  Is  not  our  eternity  al- 
ready begun  ?  Behold,  all  around  is  hnmensity,  infinity,  eter- 
nity. Above  us  are  incalculable  heights;  beneath  us  unfath- 
omable depths.  Around  us  is  vast  infinity ;  behind  us  eter- 
nity past ;  before  us  eternity  to  come.  Within  us  are  bound- 
less capacities  for  joy  or  woe;  while  ever  present  with  us, 
encompassing  all  our  ways,  pervading  our  whole  being,  source 
of  every  blessing,  and  witness  to  every  act  and  thought  and 
feeling,  is  the  silent  and  awful  majesty  of  God.  Such  is  the 
grandeur  and  such  the  sublime  mystery  of  our  condition  here. 


THE   MINISTRY   OF  THE   GOSPEL.  431 

But  he  who  would  bring  home  tliese  great  truths  to  the  con- 
science and  practical  conviction  of  another,  must  know  them 
not  only  as  a  speculation,  but  must  have  felt  them  as  a  fact, 
ill  his  own  inward  experience,  as  the  great  fact  of  his  own 
history ;  must  know  them  as  the  one  central  fact  of  human 
existence  and  human  destiny,  around  which  all  others  do  obe- 
diently range  tliemselves,  to  which  all  others  are  subordinate, 
and  from  which  they  all  derive  their  only  true  significance. 
Hence,  in  all  ages  of  the  world,  from  St.  Paul  to  Augustine, 
from  Augustine  to  Luther,  and  onward  to  Bunyan  and  Baxter, 
and  down  to  our  own  days,  the  men  who  have  been  honored 
of  God  to  stamp  deep  upon  their  generation  the  impression 
of  these  truths,  have  borne  about  with  them,  in  their  own 
persons,  the  experimental  realization  of  them  ;  have  known 
from  inward  experience  the  sad  and  sublime  reality  of  things; 
liave  gazed  with  steady  earnestness  into  the  fires  of  perdition, 
till  all  human  tortures  Avere  indifterent ;  and  roved  amidst 
the  delights  of  paradise  till  all  earthly  splendor  was  insignifi- 
cant; Avho  have  themselves,  in  the  secrecy  of  their  own 
bosoms,  grappled  in  deadly  conflict  with  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness ;  and,  issuing  from  the  closet  to  the  pulpit,  fresh  from 
these  high  and  solemn  meditations,  victorious  from  amidst 
these  terrific  struggles,  they  have  uttered  words  of  exhorta- 
tion which  have  been  like  a  voice  from  heaven — their  tones 
of  warning  or  denunciation  sounding  like  the  trump  of  God. 
In  the  days  of  Whitfield  a  comedy  was  prepared,  in  which 
the  doctrines  and  manner  of  this  great  prophet  of  his  age 
were  held  up  to  public  ridicule.  Garrick  was  selected  to  rep- 
resent the  distinguished  preacher.  But  this  extraordinary 
man,  accustomed  to  study  the  character  he  was  about  to  rep- 
resent, that  lie  might  sympathize  with  all  his  feelings,  and 
reproduce  a  living  similiiude  of  the  man  he  was  to  personate, 
entered  with  such  enthusiasm  into  the  spirit  of  this  new  hero 
of  the  drama,  that  he  stood  before  them  with  all  tlie  grandeur 
and  solemnity  of  a  herald  of  the  skies;  the  whole  assembly 
was  bathed  in  tears,  and  for  once  the  theatre  was  converted 
into  a  place  of  penitence   and  prayer.       When  asked  by  a 


432  TPIE   MINISTRY   OF   TME   GOSPEL. 

minister  of  the  Gospel  ^v]lere  lay  the  secret  of  liis  power,  he 
replied  with  keen  yet  instructive  severity :  "  We  speak  fiction 
as  if  it  were  truth,  you  speak  truth  as  if  it  were  the  idlest 
liction."  May  none  of  you,  my  young  brethren,  ever  stand 
np  in  the  sacred  pulpit  and  drawl  out  with  dull  and  lifeless,  in- 
sipidity, truths  which  inspire  the  songs  of  angels,  and  shall 
swell  the  raptures  of  eternity. 

III.  But  again,  these  great  facts,  when  expressed  in  lan- 
guage, and  classified  according  to  tlieir  mutual  relations,  con- 
stitute a  grand  system  of  doctrines,  complete  and  harmonious, 
in  whicli  each  truth  occupies  its  a[)propriate  place,  and  pre- 
supposes hy  a  logical  necessity  all  the  rest,  while  each  upon 
each  reciprocally  sheds  additional  illumination.  "There  is 
scarcely  a  bone,"  says  Cuvier,  the  great  naturalist,  when 
speaking  of  the  admirable  harmony  that  pervades  the  animal 
economy,  "there  is  scarcely  a  bone  that  can  vary  in  its  sur- 
faces, in  its  curvatures,  or  in  its  protuberances,  without  a  cor- 
respondent variation  in  all  the  rest,"  so  that  a  skilful  natural- 
ist, from  the  appearance  of  a  single  bone,  will  often  be  able  to 
determine  the  form  of  the  whole  skeleton  to  which  it  belonged. 
And  the  reason  is  obvious,  because  each  must  be  adapted  to 
those  which  are  adjacent,  and  these  to  others  still  more  re- 
mote, even  to  the  extremities  of  the  system,  while  all  must 
harmoniously  co-operate  with  one  common  object — the  exist- 
ence and  welfare  of  the  animal.  'Now  it  is  even  thus  with  the 
great  system  of  Christian  doctrines ;  each  is  adapted  to  others  ; 
all  spring  from  one  common  source,  and  tend  with  harmonious 
precision  towards  one  common  centre — the  cross  of  Christ  and 
justification  through  faith  in  the  great  atonemeit  there.  And 
here,  too,  the  scientific  theologian  can  often  easily  descry 
ill  the  minutest  fragment  of  some  remote  or  ha'f-developed 
dogma,  the  whole  large  outline  and  full  proportions  of  the  com- 
ing error ;  with  all  its  habitudes  and  tendencies,  its  bold  protu- 
berances towards  open  heresy,  its  gentle  inclinations  towards 
secret  error,  and  all  the  graceful  curvatures  of  an  insidious  and 
plausible  theology.  Thus,  though  but  a  single  paw  was  ex- 
hibited at  first — and  that  with  studious  caution  and  economic- 


THE   MIXISTRY   OF   THK   GOSPEL.  433 

al  reserve — of  that  great  "  Beast  of  Babylon  "  of  heterogene- 
ous elements,  half  iron  and  half  clay,  wliich  now  moves 
rampant  over  the  natiojis ;  yet  did  the  wise  men  of  England 
and  of  America  at  once  proclaim  his  oriiiin,  character,  and 
habits;  confidently  predict  his  growth  and  gradual  develop- 
ment ;  and  actually  project,  with  photographic  accuracy,  a 
pei-fect  delineation  of  the  full-grown  m.onster.  Or,  to  drop  the 
metaphor,  the  wisest  and  best  of  English  and  American 
bishops  perceived  at  once,  that  Puseyism  was  essential  Popery  ; 
that  they  who  began  by  rejecting  God's  method  of  justifica- 
tion by  faith  in  the  blood  of  Christ,  and  substituting  in  its 
stead  fasting  and  penances  and  such  like  human  mummeries, 
must  substitute  the  fathers  for  God's  word;  the  authority  of 
the  church  for  tlie  free  exercise  of  private  judgment ;  im- 
plicit faith  for  the  manly  exercise  of  reason  ;  and  having  thus 
at  once  yielded  up  reason  and  revelation,  must  terminate  in 
papal  infallibility,  transubstantialion,  and  the  idolatrous  wor- 
ship of  the  saints  and  the  immaculate  Virgin  3Iary. 

IV.  But,  as  we  have  remarked  before,  the  whole  system  of 
Gospel  truth,  with  all  its  separate  parts,  tends  towards  one 
common  object,  and  revolves  around  one  common  centre,  that 
centre  Christ.  And  just  as  of  old  the  planets  of  our  system 
gathered  in  high  conjunction  at  his  birth,  and  stood  with  mute 
homage  and  blended  radiance  above  his  cradle,  even  so  do  the 
several  doctrines  of  his  Word  cluster  with  instinctive  sympathy 
around  the  cross,  and  pour  their  combined  eft'nlgence  there. 
Hence,  the  cross  of  Christ,  and  the  great  propitiation  offered 
there,  must  be  the  theme  of  the  Christian  minister.  But  how 
can  he  preach  an  unknown  Saviour  ?  How  lead  to  a  cross 
whose  efficacy  he  has  never  experienced  ?  How  even  com- 
prehend a  system  of  truth,  whose  simplest  elements  have  no 
place  in  his  own  inward  experiences?  Hence  the  necessity  of 
a  truly  converted  and  spiritually  minded  ministry.  ]>ecanse 
only  such  a  ministry  can  comprehend,  or  long  outwardly 
maintain  the  fundamental  doctrine  of  the  Gospel — justification 
through  faith  in  the  Redeemer  of  lost  sinners. 

There  Avas  a  tradition  long  prevalent  in  Scotland,  and.  be^ 

19  '  ■ 


43-t  THE  MINISTRY   OF   THE   GOSPEL. 

lieved  by  many  still,  that  when  the  great  leader  of  his  people, 
Wallace,  had  departed,  his  head  was  left  behind,  reserved  for 
some  future  day  of  desperate  emergency,  with  the  assurance 
that,  in  the  very  crisis  of  his  country's  destiny — when  her 
fainting  battalions  were  just  ready  to  recede,  and  the  onset 
-was  most  furious  and  desperate — then  whoever  should  cast  this 
venerated  head  amidst  the  advancing  columns  of  her  foes, 
with  him  shouk]  vest  the  victory.  And  the  tradition  tells  us 
that  on  such  a  Avell-contested  battle-field,  when  victory  seemed 
already  perching  on  the  banners  of  the  foe,  and  all  was  given 
np  for  lost,  the  chieftain  to  whom  this  precious  relic  had  been 
confided,  lifted  high  in  view  of  the  contending  armies  this 
immortal  brow — signal  of  assured  victory  to  friends,  omen  of 
terrible  defeat  to  foes — and  casting  it  far  amidst  the  ranks  of 
the  hostile  forces,  dashed  onward  to  the  conflict.  The  enemy 
stood  all  aghast.  From  battalion  to  battalion,  along  the  line 
of  Scotland's  forces,  flashed  the  electric  joy.  The  old  battle- 
cry  of  Scotland  and  Wallace  rang  through  the  ranks ;  and 
like  chafl"  before  the  whirlwind  of  their  native  mountains,  was 
swept  the  invading  army.  Their  dead  leader  gained  for  them 
a  living  victory.  The  verities  of  our  Gospel  are  not  tradition. 
The  weapons  of  our  warfare  are  not  carnal ;  the  Captain  of 
our  salvation  is  not  dead,  but  liveth.  And  may  we  not  say  to 
you,  who  are  soon  to  march  forth  to  the  battle  of  the  world — 
and  urge  upon  ourselves^that  in  our  sorest  conflicts  with 
principalities  and  powers — when  all  earthly  weapons  of  finest 
temper,  of  brightest  polish,  and  of  keenest  edge,  prove  un- 
availing— with  him  shall  be  the  victory  who  shall  lift  highest 
in  the  view  of  contending  hosts,  and  bear  most  boldly  forward 
in  the  front  of  battle,  and  farthest  onward  amidst  the  advanc- 
ing battalions  of  our  foes,  the  image  of  our  living,  though 
crucified  Redeemer.  The  Cross  !  the  Cross  ! — let  this  be  our 
watchword  amidst  the  darkness  of  the  night.  The  Cross  !  the 
Cross  ! — be  tliis  our  battle-cry  when  we  advance  to  the  charge, 
and  upon  the  banner  that  waves  above  the  sacramental  host  of 
God's  elect,  alike  amidst  disaster  and  success,  whether  it  float 
iu  enduring  triumph,  or  droop  in  apparent  and  transient  de- 


THE   MINISTRY   OF  THE   GOSPEL.  435 

feat,  let  there  be  inscribed  all  over  in  characters  of  livinpj 
light,  the  Cross,  the  Cross  of  our  crucified  and  exalted  Lord 
and  Saviour.  Christ  and  his  cross  be  all  our  theme,  thougli 
"  the  victories  we  speak  be  folly  in  the  Jews'  esteem,  and  mad- 
ness to  the  Greek."  And  be  assured  tliat  in  that  day  of  trial 
and  of  conflict  which  lies  just  before  us — to  which  the  many- 
tongued  voices  all  around  do  summon  God's  own  people ;  that 
crisis  of  the  world's  destiny  now  near  at  hand,  in  which  the 
embattled  powers  of  good  and  evil  shall  struggle  together  for 
tlie  final  victory ;  that  day  of  coming  darkness  when  the  faint- 
liearted  and  the  false  shall  flee,  and  for  which  each  leader  that 
is  boldest  in  God's  sacramental  host  is  girding  on  his  armor, 
his  sword,  his  helmet,  his  battle-axe  and  shield,  the  weapons 
of  oflTeirsive  and  defensive  warfare  all  burnished  for  the  con- 
test— in  that  great  day  of  terror  in  the  valley  of  decision,  the 
church  beneath  this  banner  shall  be  victorious  ;  nay,  to  use  the 
language  of  the  Saviour  himself  when  speaking  of  his  advent, 
"shall  be  like  the  lightning  which  lighteneth  out  of  the  one 
part  under  heaven,  and  shineth  unto  the  other  part  nnder 
heaven,"  and  nothing  can  stay  the  course  thereof  Like  that 
lightning  in  its  course,  so  radiant  in  its  glory,  so  irresistible  in 
its  progress,  pervading  all  that  is  homogeneous,  shattering  all 
that  dare  oppose,  and  speaking  to  all  the  world  in  the  same 
tones  of  imperial  majesty,  shall  move  onward,  conquering  and 
to  conquer,  the  doctrine  of  the  cross,  and  of  him  who  hung 
there  in  his  agony  and  love. 

Tliis  leads  us  to  remark  that  we  need  an  energetic  ministrt/. 
There  is  a  mild  and  meditative  piety,  a  refined  and  literary 
piety,  a  subtle  and  speculative  piety,  and  all  this  may  answer 
in  its  place,  may  serve  the  individual  purposes  and  save  the 
individual  soul.  But  for  the  conversion  and  salvation  of  the 
world  we  need  a  living,  active,  energetic  piety.  A  man  raay 
do  good  service  in  the  battle  of  the  world,  whether  he  go  fortli 
armed  with  spear  or  battle-axe,  broad-sword  or  scimetar.  We 
care  not  how  bright  the  polish  of  your  weapon,  if  only  the 
edge  be  keen  and  the  metal  steel.  You  may  stud  the  hilt 
with  diamonds,  or  emboss  it  with  gold  of  i)riccless  value-  and 


436  THE   MINISTRY   OF   THE   GOSPEL. 

solid  workmansliip,  but  let  not  the  blade  be  rusted  nor 
wreathe  the  point  with  flowers,  and  let  it  be  wielded  ever  with 
an  arm  of  vigor,  impelled  by  a  heart  of  fire. 

Y.  But  let  us  consider,  in  conclusion,  the  difficulties  and 
dangers  of  the  office.  Every  situation  has  its  peculiar  advan- 
tages and  pleasures,  as  well  as  its  difficulties  and  dangers. 
The  ministry  has  its  own  pleasures  and  also  its  difficulties.  I 
speak  not  of  what  the  minister  has  in  common  with  other 
Christians,  but  of  those  peculiar  to  his  situation.  Ilis  Avork 
is  vast ;  the  opposition  to  the  great  object  of  his  life  is  con- 
stant, inveterate,  and  combined  ;  and  if  apparent  success  for 
a  time  crown  his  eflTorts,  still  danger  comes — the  world  flatters 
to  mislead,  seduce,  and  destroy.  It  is  easy  to  produce  super- 
ficial external  changes.  It  is  easy  to  mould  the  features  to  a 
smile,  tune  the  voice  to  tenderness,  and  discipline  the  limbs  to 
graceful  motions;  too  easy,  as  is  obvious  to  any  one  who  has 
only  glanced  at  the  society,  stupidly  miscalled  refined,  to  polish 
the  exterior,  while  corruption  is  festering  at  the  core.  It  is 
comparatively  easy  to  imbue  the  mind  with  a  moderate  share 
of  knowledge,  and  so  regulate  the  appetite  and  passions  and 
conduct  as  to  lead  a  quiet  and  respectable  life.  This  is  the 
end  of  philosoi^hy ;  but  religion  aims  at  something  far  more 
difficult  and  important — at  nothing  less  than  a  radical  and 
fundamental  change  in  the  whole  character  of  the  man.  She 
announces  this  as  her  bold  design — to  renovate  the  individual 
and  revolutionize  society,  to  implant  new  principles  in  the 
human  character,  infuse  new  elements  into  human  feeling  and 
conduct ;  not  to  garnish  the  old  sepulchre,  but  to  erect  a  new 
temple  to  the  Lord;  not  an  improvement,  but  a  new  creation. 
Philosophy,  of  human  origin,  adapts  itself  to  human  tastes, 
prejudices,  weaknesses,  even  in  her  effi^rts  to  do  good.  The 
weapons  of  her  warfare  are  earthly,  and  while  assaulting  one 
passion,  she  seeks  to  strengthen  herself  by  alliance  with  an- 
other; thus  strengthening  the  principle  of  all  sin,  while  she 
resists  the  individual  practice,  and  only  invigorating  the  root, 
while  she  lops  the  branches.  Religion,  divine  in  origin,  is 
universal   in  her  requirements.      Holiness  is  written   on  her 


THE  MmiSTRY   OF  THE   GOSPEL.  437 

banner,  and  she  can  make  no  terms  with  sin  in  its  inward 
principles  or  outward  developments.  Hence  a  minister,  if 
faithful,  must  arouse  opposition,  extensive  and  inveterate;  the 
Avorld,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil  must  be  arrayed  against  him. 
For  lie  goes  forth  amongst  his  fellow-men  the  avowed  enemy 
of  all  they  love  most  dearly — waging  war  against  sin,  against 
all  sin,  however  ingeniously  veiled,  or  gracefully  decked  ; 
however  plausibly  defended,  consecrated  by  custom,  supported 
bv  interest,  or  recommended  by  foshion.  Against  sin,  from 
tlie  cottajje  to  the  throne,  he  must  wagje  a  war  of  extermina- 
tion.  Nay,  if  one  sin  be  more  widely  prevalent,  more  securely 
intrenched,  more  extensively  ruinous  than  all  beside,  against 
this,  tliough  power  should  protect  it,  and  eloquence  plead  for 
it,  and  wealth  and  talent  and  genius  and  learning  and  popular 
admiration  unite  to  encircle  it  with  splendor,  must  the  ana- 
themas of  the  Gospel  be  boldly  thundered  forth.  The  sin  of 
llerod  must  not  go  unrebuked  though  a  dungeon  and  the  axe 
be  John's  reward. 


XXVI. 

INFLUENCE   OF  EVIL   SPIRITS. 


Luke  xi.  24-26. — ''  When  the  unclean  spirit  is  gone'out  of  a  man,  he  walk- 
eth  through  drj-  places,  seeking  rest :  and  finding  none,  he  saitli,  I  will  return 
unto  my  house  whence  I  came  out. 

'•  And  when  he  cometh,  he  findeth  it  swept  and  garnished. 

"Then  goeth  he,  and  taketli  to  him  seven  other  spirits  more  wicked  than 
himself;  and  they  enter  in,  and  dwell  there :  and  the  last  state  of  that  man 
is  worse  than  the  first." 


We  shall  not  attempt  to  discuss  any  of  the  numerous  ques- 
tions which  might  be  legitimately  raised  in  regard  to  demoni- 
acal possessions.  That  s])irit  should  operate  on  spirit,  is  truly 
not  more  mysterious  than  that  matter  should  operate  on 
matter.  The  mode  in  which  they  operate  and  the  nature  of 
the  coimection  between  them  we  do  not  know;  in  either 
the  fact  is  equally  manifest,  and  equally  intelligible  in  both. 
Tiiat  spirit  should  operate  on  spirit  without  the  intervention 
of  bodily  organization,  is  not  more  wonderful  than  that 
matter  should  operate  on  matter  without  the  intermediate 
agency  of  spirit.  Nay,  that  an  immaterial  spirit  should 
operate  upon  the  soul  of  man,  spirit  directly  upon  spirit 
without  the  aid  of  bodily  organs,  is  not  more  mysterious  but 
less^  than  that  it  should  operate  through  the  instrumentality  of 
this  material  frame :  for  when  you  introduce  the  bodily  organi- 
zations you  have  complicated  the  process  instead  of  simpli- 
fying it.  You  have  removed  the  mysterious  phenomena  to  a 
greater  distance,  separated  them  by  a  wider  interval,  and  inter- 
posed new  links  of  connection  in  the  successive  series.  But 
each  of  these  material  links  itself  involves  a  new  mystery,  and 
you    have    multiplied    the    mystery,    instead    of   solving   it. 


INFLUENCE   OF   EVIL  SPIRITS.  439 

Before,  it  wns  spirit  operating  upon  spirit,  like  upon  like. 
Now,  it  is  spirit  operating  upon  matter,  and  this  upon  other 
matter,  until  at  last,  by  this  circuitous  process,  e^  ery  step  of 
\vhich  invoh-es  a  peculiar  mystery  of  its  own,  one  spirit  is 
brought  indirectly  and  mediately  into  communication  with 
another.  As  in  speech  the  organs  are  moved  by  the  will,  the 
air  by  the  organs,  the  tympanum  of  the  ear  by  vibration  of 
the  air,  the  auditory  nerve  is  ultimately  reached  through  the 
complicated  apparatus;  this  communicates  with  the  brain,  and 
thus  at  last  the  mind  is  reached.  The  true  difficulty  is — and 
the  whole  history  of  human  speculation  through  all  ages 
proves  that  it  has  been  deeply  felt  as  the  real  and  almost  in- 
superable difficulty — not  that  spirit  should  communicate 
immediately  with  spirit,  like  with  like,  but  that  an  immaterial 
soul  should  be  at  all  connected  with  a  material  body,  and 
should  employ  its  organs  as  a  medium  of  communication 
with  other  spirits.  Like  with  like,  body  with  body,  spirit 
with  spirit,  in  direct  and  reciprocal  interaction,  seems  to  be  the 
natural  spontaneous  universal  judgment  of  man. 

Now,  whatever  may  be  the  difficulties  which  an  ingenious 
and  subtle  speculation  may  imagine  or  perceive,  yet  the /act 
is  distinctly,  repeatedly,  solemnly  proclaimed  by  Scripture ; 
and  all  experience  and  all  reason  yield  their  loud  and  unani- 
mous assent  in  confirmation  of  the  fact,  that  the  oriirin  of 
evil  is  not  on  earth  ;  that  it  lies  beyond  the  sphere  of  human 
agency,  as  beyond  the  grasp  of  human  speculation  ;  that 
besides  the  human  spirits  on  the  earth,  invisible  to  us — as 
truly  and  totally  invisible  as  the  powers  of  the  unseen  world 
(for  who  ever  saw  a  spirit  ?) — there  is  another  spirit,  a  dark 
])Ower  of  evil,  that  walks  abroad  upon  the  earth  with  his  con- 
federate band  of  foul  deceivers;  that  has  intimate  access  to 
the  human  spirit;  that  rouses  the  dormant  passions,  blows  to 
a  tiame  the  latent  sparks  of  lust ;  that  with  devilish  skill  enters 
at  each  avenue  of  the  heart  of  man,  seizes  each  element  of 
his  fallen  nature,  and  wields  it  for  his  ruin.  He  throws  around 
all  forbidden  thiuo^s  a  brilliancy  of  fascination,  an  enchantina: 
witchery  that  dazzles   the  imagination,   bewilders  the   under- 


440  IN'FLUEXCE   OF   EVIL   SPIRITS. 

standing,  captivates  the  taste,  and  seduces  the  affections,  until 
the  voice  of  experience,  of  reason,  of  conscience,  is  unheard, 
and  the  whole  machinery  of  his  intellectual  and  moral  being 
is  unhinged.  Amidst  the  tumultuous  uproar  of  all  the  insur- 
gent passions,  amidst  tlie  Avild  war  of  the  chaotic  and  jarring 
elements  within  him,  reason  is  detlironed,  conscience  stifled, 
the  will  itself  paralyzed,  and  the  unhappy  man,  mastered  by 
some  strange  and  foreign  power,  is  dragged  at  first  reluc- 
tantly along,  half  conscious  of  tlie  hellish  agency  that  im- 
pels him,  and  struggling  from  time  to  time  with  spasmodic 
violence  to  be  free.  Then  he  yields  himself  a  willing  captive, 
))lends  his  own  perverted  energies  and  his  eternal  destinies 
Avith  tliose  of  the  powers  of  darkness,  and  sweeps  on  madly 
exulting  before  the  tempest  of  his  passions;  like  the  spectre- 
ship  which  the  poet  has  described,  the  wildest  and  most  terri- 
ble creation  of  human  genius,  which  swept  proudly  careering 
on  amidst  the  fury  of  the  elements,  above  the  billows  and  before 
the  storm,  beneath  the  broad  light  of  day,  and  the  solemn 
stillness  of  the  stariy  night,  uiged  furiously  forward  by  demon 
powers. 

At  the  period  of  our  Saviour's  appearance,  it  is  known  that 
the  dominion  of  this  power  of  evil  had  become  almost  univer- 
sal. The  insurrection  against  God  and  his  government, 
wliich  seemed  destined  to  achieve  a  speedy,  hnal,  and  decisive 
triumph,  had  penetrated  every  department  of  thought  and 
etfort.  Over  every  institution,  political,  social,  religious;  over 
every  class  of  human  society,  every  relation  of  human  life 
public  or  private,  men's  private  actions  or  retired  speculations  ; 
over  all  men's  passions,  affections,  reasonings,  this  power  exer- 
cised an  omnipresent  and  omnipotent  sway.  Philoso[>hy,  in 
open  and  avowed  revolt,  denied  the  existence  of  a  God  and 
the  immortality  of  the  soul,  the  fundamental  principles  of 
morals,  and,  in  the  spirit  of  a  haughty  and  stoical  indifference 
threw  itself  over  on  the  doctrine  of  a  gloomy  Pantheism; 
of  laws  of  nature  moving  on  forever  under  the  guidance  of 
a  blind,  crushing,  inexorable  necessity.  The  masses  bowed 
down  before  gods   of  wood   or  stone,  which  their  own  hands 


INFLUENCE  OF  EVIL  SPIRITS.  441 

had  made,  or  deified  tlie  worst  appetites  and  passions  of  our 
fallen  nature.  There  is  scarcely  a  brutal  appetite  that  degrades 
our  nature,  or  a  fiendish  passion  that  heats  the  blood  or 
maddens  tlie  brain  of  man,  that  had  not  its  temple,  its  altar, 
its  worshipper;  to  these  did  the  sculptor,  the  painter,  the  poet 
consecrate  the  noblest  productions  of  their  art;  and  thus  were 
the  most  splendid  efforts  of  human  genius  made  to  give  a 
brilliancy  and  a  glory  to  the  basest  of  human  passions ;  and 
over  the  whole  broad  domain  of  human  society,  in  action  and 
in  thought,  in  philosophy,  poetry,  art,  in  ordinary  life,  the 
Prince  of  darkness  reigned  ubiquitous,  with  supreme  control. 

It  was  from  the  spirit  and  perhaps  through  the  spirit  that 
this  influenca  reached  the  body.  The  inward  ruin  became 
outwardly  visible ;  it  was  the  total  wreck  of  body  and  of  spirit, 
so  completely  overmastered  by  the  evil  that  the  feeling  of  in- 
dividual identity  was  lost.  He  was  another,  and  yet  the  same  ; 
one,  yet  many ;  seven  devils,  and  then,  as  the  fragments  of  a 
shattered  intellect  multiplied  variously  the  reflection  of  his 
consciousness,  he  was  legion.  They  foamed,  they  rolled  on 
the  ground,  they  wandered  in  dismal  solitudes,  and  shunned 
the  abodes  of  men ;  amidst  the  tombs  of  the  dead  they  lurked 
by  day,  and  issued  forth  at  night  ferocious,  untameable ;  with 
superhuman  strength  they  tore  away  the  bars  of  the  prison- 
liouse,  and  burst  the  fetters  that  bound  them.  In  such  a  state 
of  things,  when  Satan  had  gained  such  absolute  and  universal 
control;  when  all  human  appliances  were  unavailing;  when 
philosophy,  literature,  government,  society  had  been  subju- 
gated and  corrupted  by  his  influence,  and  the  few  who  re- 
tained some  remains  of  sanity  looked  wildly  around  in  despair 
upon  the  universal  and  hopeless  ruin,  it  was  manifest  that  some 
higher  power  was  needed  to  prevent  the  total  disorganization 
of  society.  The  cry  of  the  Syro|>heuician  woman,  when  all 
that  was  sweetest,  and  dearest,  and  loveliest,  and  purest  at  her 
own  domestic  hearth  was  thus  polluted,  became  but  the  echo 
of  the  universal  voice  of  man  :  "Lord,  have  mercy  on  me,  for 
my  daughter  is  grievously  tormented  by  the  devil." 

Now  the  miracles  of  our  Saviour,  as  the  doctrinea  which  he 
19* 


442  INFLUENCE   OF   EVIL  SPIRITS. 

taught  and  the  sufferings  he  endured,  had  a  reference  far  be- 
yond the  occasion  on  which  they  were  performed.  In  each  of 
the  diseases  which  he  healed,  there  is  a  striking  and  probably 
a  designed  analogy,  which  spontaneously  leads  us  from  the 
physician  of  the  body  to  the  physician  of  the  soul,  from  the 
outward  disease  to  the  inward  malady  of  sin.  In  healing 
each  he  proclaims  his  power  over  tlie  inward  disease  of  sin, 
and  when  he  cast  out  devils,  and  healed  those  most  malignant 
forms  of  madness  where  Satan  seemed  enthroned  in  absolute 
supremacy  amidst  the  total  wreck  of  man's  intellectual  and 
moral  nature,  he  vindicates  his  sovereignty  over  Satanic  power 
in  all  its  forms,  and  teaches  a  solemn  lesson  for  all  coming  gen- 
erations. When  he  opens  the  blind  eye,  he  points  us  to  the 
spiritual  blindness  of  our  fallen  nature.  When  he  heals  the 
leper,  he  refers  to  the  foul  and  contagious  leprosy  of  sin ; 
and  when  the  demon  is  cast  forth  from  the  raving  and 
foaming  maniac,  we  spontaneously  turn  to  society  around, 
and  behold  w^ith  saddened  hearts  the  exact  and  fearful  parallel 
in  the  history  of  those  who,  in  their  hot  pursuit  of  worldly 
pleasure,  or  worldly  gain,  or  worldly  honor,  renounce  all  the 
principles  of  reason,  disregard  the  lessons  of  experience  and 
the  warnings  of  conscience,  insult  the  majesty  and  defy  the 
omnipotence  of  God,  drive  a  fearful  traffic  with  the  prince  of 
darkness,  and  barter  away  an  immortality  of  bliss  for  the  illu- 
sive promise  of  a  few  transient  and  uncertain  enjoyments. 
They  summon  every  faculty  to  its  highest  exercise,  and  string 
every  nerve  to  its  intensest  tension,  for  some  perishable  good ; 
are  shrewd,  keen,  alert,  fiir-seeing  in  all  that  relates  to  their 
Avorldly  interests ;  but  for  eternity,  and  all  that  it  contains  of 
vast  and  tremendous  import  to  an  immortal  spirit,  are  the 
veriest  madmen. 

In  pursuing  the  parallel,  we  remark  first,  in  respect  to  the 
ordinary  madman,  that  the  first  symptom  of  his  madness  is  a 
strange  delusion  about  himself,  a  total  misconception  of  his 
character,  his  position,  and  his  relations  to  all  around.  He 
imagines  that  he  is  some  mighty  potentate,  lord  of  the  earth  ; 
or,  stretching  his  wide  domain  still  farther,  is  emperor  of  the 


INFLUENCE   OF   EVIL  SPIRITS.  443 

moon.  His  narrow  cell  is  an  imperial  palace,  his  wooden  stool 
a  throne  of  majesty,  his  little  rod  a  sceptre  of  royal  power. 
The  scraps  of  tattered  finery  hung  around  his  brow  are  a 
})rince's  diadem,  and  the  filthy  rags  that  are  gathered  about 
his  emaciated  frame  are  a  robe  of  imperial  purple.  He  assumes 
the  air  and  attitude  of  kings,  and  all  around  are  but  the  mem- 
bers of  his  court,  attendants  on  liis  person,  subject  to  his  au- 
thority, and  await  in  mute  awe  and  reverence  his  high  com- 
mands. He  is  rich ;  the  wealth  of  nations  flows  into  his  trea- 
sury; the  gold  of  India  and  California  fills  his  coffers.  He  is 
free,  though  he  cannot  move  without  the  permission  of  his 
keeper,  though  his  keeper's  eye  follows  him  at  every  step,  and 
the  stroke  of  his  keeper's  rod  startles  him  again  and  again 
from  his  dream  of  folly ;  and  when  the  night  comes  on  with 
its  deepening  shadows,  he  is  stripped  of  his  robes  of  royalty, 
and  locked  in  his  dark  cell,  a  naked  madman,  to  rave  in  impo- 
tent fury  as  he  dashes  himself  in  vain  against  its  bars  of  iron 
and  its  solid  masonry. 

Xow,  there  is  something  absurdly  ludicrous  in  this  delusion 
of  this  ordinary  madman,  but  the  madness  of  every  sinner  is 
precisely  parallel.  He,  too,  is  the  prey  of  a  similar  illusion  in 
relation  to  himself  He  dreams  that  he  is  free  and  independ- 
ent, yet  can  he  not  move  without  the  permission,  nay  with- 
out the  sustaining  power  and  goodness,  of  God.  He  stalks 
abroad,  with  lofty  step  and  regal  air  and  heart  of  pride,  as  if 
he  were  Lor«l  of  this  lower  world  ;  yet  the  great  eye  of  God 
is  fixed  in  blazing  majesty  and  consuming  wrath  upon  him, 
and  the  great  arm  of  God  is  lifted  high,  though  unseen  by  him, 
for  chastisement  or  vengeance,  and  ever  and  anon  the  strokes 
fall  thick  and  fast  and  heavy  ;  the  startled  sinner  wakes  for  a 
moment  from  his  dream  of  maniac  folly,  implores  with  many 
cries  and  tears  forgiveness,  and  relapses  and  promises  amend- 
ment, till  at  last  the  night  of  death  comes  on,  the  deep  dark 
shadows  of  an  undone  eternity  gather  around  his  soul.  Each 
shred  and  patch  and  shattered  fragment  of  that  mock  righteous- 
ness in  which  he  has  arrayed  himself,  to  hide  the  dark  pollu- 
tions of  a  guilt V  heart,  and   cherish  the   illusions  which   he 


444  IXFLUKNCE   OF   EVIL   SPIRITS. 

loved,  is  stripped  from  his  trembling  and  naked  spirit ;  tlie 
o;loomy  cell  is  ready  to  receive  him  ;  the  heavy  doors  of  that 
dark  prison-house  grate  harsh  thunder  as  they  close  forever  on 
the  imprisoned  soul.  Tlie  night  of  eternity  rolls  on;  slowly, 
darkly,  heavily,  sadly,  the  night  of  eternity  rolls  on.  No 
morning  light  shall  beam  upon  that  darkness.  Xo  ray  of 
liope  shall  gild  that  black  despair.  Xo  Lazarus  shall  fly  with 
winged  speed  on  angel-pinions  from  the  courts  above  to  give 
one  drop  of  water  to  cool  the  parched  tongue.  Xo  voice  of 
man  or  angel  shall  proclaim  the  wonders  of  redeeming  love. 
There  is  no  cross  in  hell;  no  Saviour  there.  Madman,  look 
round  upon  the  prison-house,  its  gloomy  walls,  its  caverns 
dark  and  deep,  its  fiery  billows  as  they  surge  and  boil  and 
flash  around  thee.  Hear  the  shriek  of  agony,  the  groan  of 
horror,  the  curse  of  blasphemy,  the  wail  of  despair.  Was  it 
for  this  that  you  despised  the  sweet  voice  of  mercy,  rejected 
a  Saviour's  love,  stifled  conscience,  grieved  God's  spirit,  and  re- 
strained prayer? 

But  again,  the  sinner,  too,  thinks  that  he  is  rich — rich  in  all 
moral  excellence.  He  hangs  around  his  brows  the  tattered 
soiled  fragments  of  some  old  cast-ofl*  heathen  morality,  and 
mounts  a  lofty  pedestal,  and  thinks  himself  pre-eminent 
amongst  his  fellows  in  every  attribute  that  should  grace  and 
dignify  a  man.  You  shall  believe  he  is  a  man  of  principle, 
while  he  is  the  slave  of  sin,  the  very  bond-slave  of  every 
beastly  appetite  and  devilish  passion.  A  man  of  principle ! 
And  yet  there  is  not  a  tie  so  sacred  or  so  tender,  not  an  inter- 
est so  paramount  or  dear,  not  a  duty  so  solemn  or  so  urgent, 
that  is  not  sacrificed  at  the  call  of  inclination ;  not  a  principle 
so  firm  that  is  not  swept  away  by  the  strong  impulse  of  mo- 
mentary passion.  There  is  not  one  duty  to  God  or  man  which 
he  has  not  violated  in  its  true  and  deepest  meaning.  The  very- 
first  of  all  those  duties,  and  the  basis  of  all  the  rest,  he  wholly 
and  habitually  disregards — his  duty  to  the  great  Creator. 
There  is  no  fear  of  God  before  his  eyes,  no  love  of  God  in  his 
lieart,  no  thought  of  God  in  his  mind,  no  service  of  God  in 
his  life ;  and  if  the  idea  of  God  were  blotted  out  from  his  un- 


INFLUENCE   OF   EVIL   SPIRITS.  445 

derstanding,  and  the  name  of  God  erased  from  liis  memory,  as 
the  thonglit  of  God  is  banished  from  liis  habitual  reliections, 
and  the  service  of  God  from  tlie  whole  current  of  his  daily 
life,  there  would  be  no  darker  shadow  over  his  soul,  no  drearier, 
blanker  atheism  would  shroud  in  its  midnight  blackness  the 
utter  desolation  of  his  whole  moral  being.  He  does  not  even 
give  to  God  the  homage  of  a  passing  thought.  God  is  to  him 
but  the  madman's  keeper.  And  yet  the  madman  still  cherishes 
the  vain  delusion  that  he  believes  in  God,  has  a  profound  rev- 
erence for  God,  will  never  meet  that  God  in  vengeance  and  in 
judgment. 

lie  is  generous,  noble,  manly  !  Fine  words  are  these,  my 
friends,  and  full  of  lofty  sound.  But  let  us  see.  He  is  gen- 
erous and  manly,  the  very  soul  of  honor !  Yet  he  has  be- 
trayed the  confidence  that  was  reposed  in  him — the  tender, 
generous,  contiding  love,  the  purest,  truest,  holiest  on  earth, 
which  after  many  a  broken  promise  still  strives  to  trust,  and, 
smiling  through  its  tears,  says  with  the  parting  kiss  crowned 
with  a  motlier's  blessing,  Kemember,  son,  your  promise  when 
temptations  come,  and  evil  companions  would  seduce,  remem- 
ber your  mother's  Bible  and  your  mother's  God.  Remember, 
son,  remember  !  He  is  generous  !  And  yet  he  can  pierce  with 
a  pang  bitterer  than  death  that  heart  tliat  for  many  a  year 
has  longed  and  yearned  and  prayed  only  for  liim,  that  lives 
only  in  his  life;  and  in  the  long  vista  of  future  years  can  see 
no  prospect  to  delight  whicli  is  not  brightened  by  the  thought 
of  an  honorable  and  virtuous  manhood  for  her  clierished  boy. 
Generous,  manly  !  Yet  he  can  bring  down  tliose  gray  hairs 
with  sorrow  to  the  grave  ;  crush  the  only  hope  that  could 
cheer  amidst  the  infirmities  of  advancing  life,  and  make  the 
grave  itself  a  welcome  refuge  from  a  motlier's  untold  anguisl), 
and  a  mother's  shame.  Surely  he  is  generous,  my  friends,  or 
is  it  only  the  delusion  of  a  madman? 

But  he  is  a  gentleman,  at  least,  of  untarnished  character,  and 
with  all  the  virtues  th.at  adorn  and  grace  that  honorable  appel- 
lation. A  gentleman  !  And  yet  you  shall  see  him  wallow  in 
shameless,  beastly  intoxication.     Are  the  stupidity  of  an  ass. 


446  IXFLUEXCE  OF   EVIL  SPIRITS, 

and  the  foulness  of  swine,  the  peculiar  and  distinguisliing 
characteristics  of  a  gentleman  ?  Surely  the  man  is  mad  ;  an 
unclean  devil  has  taken  possession  of  him  in  body  and  in 
spirit.  He  is  the  same  which  entered  into  the  service  of  old, 
and  we  have  no  reason  to  believe  that  they  were  either  im- 
proved or  pleased  by  liis  society.  His  name  is  legion,  for  ho 
never  comes  alone.  He  is  a  social  devil,  and  hosts  of  others 
follow  in  his  train.  They  swarm  in  by  every  open  avenue, 
creep  slyly  in  through  every  crevice  of  the  heart,  storm  and 
strongly  garrison  the  citadel,  then  take  possession  of  the 
Avhole.  There  is  not  an  apartment  of  the  soul  which  they 
will  not  occupy,  no  secret  chamber,  no  dark  nook  or  corner 
where  foul  vermin  lurk  unseen,  but  they  will  seize  and  render 
it  tenfold  fouler.  They  will  seize  the  imagination  and  the 
reasoning  power,  rouse  every  passion,  stimulate  every  appe- 
tite, take  possession  of  body  and  spirit,  and  pervert  every  or- 
gan and  every  faculty,  eye,  ear,  tongue,  to  their  devilish  pur- 
poses. The  tongue  is,  according  to  the  Psalmist,  the  glory  of 
a  man,  the  distinguishing  characteristic  between  men  and 
brutes.  Yet  go  to  his  private  apartment,  hear  his  familiar 
conversation  ;  obscenity  and  blasphemy  form  the  whole  staple 
of  his  talk.  An  unclean  devil  guides  the  swift  tongue,  and 
whets  the  prurient  appetite,  and  quickens  the  eager  ear.  The 
maniac's  laugh  responds  to  the  madman's  filthy  jest.  The 
very  air  around  him  reeks  with  blasphemous  obscenity,  is  pes- 
tilential, putrid.  He  soils  the  ground  on  wliich  he  treads;  pol- 
lutes the  atmosphere  he  breathes ;  there  is  contagion  in  his 
touch.  In  his  presence  and  society  every  pure  and  generous 
and  noble  sentiment  withers  and  dies,  and  the  wise  and  good 
who  would  seek  to  save  him,  turn  away  at  last  in  sadness  and 
with  loathing. 

Another  characteristic  of  the  ordinary  madman,  is  the  abso- 
lute subversion  of  all  the  rational  principles  of  human  action, 
the  total  incapacity  to  appreciate  the  real  importance,  or  esti- 
mate the  relative  value  of  things.  With  him  the  great  and 
the  small  have  changed  places.  The  merest  tritles  swell  into 
huge  proportions,  and  excite  the  most  profound  emotion  ;  while 


INFLUENCE   OF   EVIL   SPIRITS.  447 

tlie  most  momentous  interests,  so  vast  that  tlie  human  mind 
recoils  in  the  attempt  to  i^rasp  them,  dwindle  into  insigniti- 
cance.  He  Laughs  with  maniac  merriment  where  otliers  weep  ; 
lie  weeps  in  bitter  agony,  and  will  not  be  consoled,  where 
others  would  not  even  deign  to  smile.  For  all  that  interests 
the  healthy  mind  of  man,  and  arouses  it  to  action,  he  feels  the 
profoundest  indifference.  For  the  great  living  world  of  actual 
and  palpable  realities  all  around  him,  with  its  interests,  its 
activities,  its  conflicts,  and  its  destiny,  he  feels  no  sympathy. 
The  wild  and  fantastic  hallucinations  of  his  own  distempered 
brain  are  to  him  the  only  realities.  Around  him,  on  every  side, 
the  vast  machiner}^  of  human  society  is  moving  on,  the  hum  of 
luiman  business,  the  conflicts  of  human  ititerest,  the  agitation 
of  human  passions.  Revolution  after  revolution  may  shake 
the  globe.  The  freedom  of  nations,  the  welfare  of  the  race, 
the  salvation  of  a  world,  may  be  hanging  in  suspense,  or 
liurrying  on  to  a  decisive  issue.  Yet  what  is  all  this  to  him  ? 
He  stoops  to  gather  the  pebbles  at  his  feet,  and  piles  the  straws 
around  him  into  stately  palaces  where  kings  might  be  proud  to 
dwell.  His  loud  laugh  rings  in  peals  of  gleeful  merriment 
What  is  it  for?  He  points  to  the  mimic  structure  which  has 
grown  so  magnificent  beneath  his  skill.  He  sobs  in  irrepressible 
anguish.  Why  ?  An  insect's  wing,  or  a  pufl"  of  air,  has  lev- 
elled his  gorgeous  building  with  the  earth.  Large  possessions 
may  be  his,  and  wide  connections,  a  home  of  purity  and  love 
where  each  gentle  and  generous  afl'ection  is  lavished  upon  him 
and  noble  hearts  are  wrung  with  anguish  at  each  symptom  of 
his  madness.  Stupendous  interests  may  depend  upon  his  con- 
duct, bright  may  have  been  the  promise  of  his  early  youth, 
and  fond  the  hopes  that  cluster  around  him  still.  Yet  what 
are  all  these  to  him  ?  He  disregards  all,  he  spurns  all, 
barters  all,  sacrifices  all,  to  the  merest  trifle.  Vain  is 
each  appeal  to  reason,  to  conscience,  or  affection.  All  that 
is  most  solemn,  most  tender,  or  most  sacred,  is  matter  of 
dead  indifference,  or  brutal  merriment,  or  fierce  resent- 
ment, or  demon  hate.  He  is  startled  sometimes  for  a  mo- 
ment  from    his    dream    of  folly;  gazes    eagerly    around    as 


448  INFLUENCE  OF.   EVIL  SPIRITS. 

one  bewildered  by  some  strange  and  sudden  recollection  of 
scenes  long  forgotten  ;  gleams  of  half-intelligence  flit  across 
his  countenance  like  sunbeams  struggling  through  the  riven 
thunder-cloud.  "VVe  almost  hope,  we  pray,  we  shudder,  as  we 
watch  that  changing  countenance ;  the  blackness  and  the 
tempest  gather  around  the  soul  in  deeper  and  more  impene- 
trable gloom — the  deepening  shadow  of  a  long  and  last  total 
eclipse. 

And  have  we  not  often  seen  the  sinner  even  thiis^  when, 
startled  by  some  solemn  visitation  from  on  high,  or  aroused 
from  his  life-long  dream  of  sin  by  some  peal  of  terrific  denun- 
ciation from  God's  word,  he  gazes  bewildered  and  terrified 
around  upon  the  new  realities  that  meet  his  astonished  vision ; 
wonders  at  the  illusive  shadows  that  had  so  long  misled  and 
mocked  him ;  and  the  world  recedes  from  his  view,  and  eternity 
in  all  its  terrific  grandeur  stands  palpably  out  before  him 
until  God,  death,  and  immortality,  a  coming  judgment,  an 
undone  eternity,  a  bleeding  Saviour,  and  an  interceding  Spirit, 
are  in  all  the  universe  the  only  realities  for  him  ?  Oh  !  the  keei 
agony  of  that  anxious  suspense,  when  an  immortal  spirit  seems 
just  awakening  to  a  wqw  life  of  intelligence,  or,  greater  still,  of 
faith  ;  when  the  wayward  prodigal  hears  the  voice  of  a  fiuher'a 
love,  and  comes  to  himself  and  beholds  with  horror  his  own 
nakedness,  and  foul  and  loathsome  degradation,  and  says,  "  I 
Avill  arise  and  go  unto  my  Father;"  and  he  is  almost  ready 
to  depart,  when  suddenly  a  midnight  darkness  settles  down  ou 
all  his  faculties.  He  forgets  his  father's  house,  the  fond  aft'ec- 
tion  and  tender  sympathy  of  the  family  there,  of  angels,  and 
spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect,  liis  own  high  origin  and 
deathless  desiiny,  and  fearful  responsibilities;  plunges  madly 
back  into  sin,  and  wanders  like  the  demoniac  of  the  Bible 
amidst  the  tombs  of  the  dead^  the  sepulchres  of  buried  reso- 
lutions, and  murdered  mercies,  whose  spectral  apparitions  start 
up  at  every  step  around  him,  to  haunt  and  madden  him  still 
more  by  their  presence. 

The  sinner,  too,  stands  amidst  an  august  and  stirring  scene, 
where  all  is  life,  activity,  intense  excitement,  and  every  living 


INFLUENCE   OF   EVIL  SPIRITS.  449 

aixent  is  profoiinclly  interested  except  himself.  He  stands 
amidst  tlie  m.ircl)  and  the  movement  of  a  high  moral  administra- 
tion, M'hich  sweeps  boundlessly  around  him,  reaching  the  outer 
limits  of  immensity  itself,  comprehending  all  time  and  all 
eternity  and  all  worlds  in  its  tremendous  issues,  where  ques- 
tions far  more  solemn,  and  interests  more  vast,  than  those  of 
nations  and  empires  are  decided.  As  this  plan  moves  on  in 
its  majestic  evolution,  our  earth  has  become  the  theatre  of  a 
far  mightier  conflict  than  any  which  the  embattled  nations  of 
the  world  have  ever  waged,  when  the  eaith  shook  beneath  the 
charge  of  their  thronged  battalions,  or  the  sea  trembled  be- 
neath the  roar  of  their  artillery.  Amidst  the  thickening  in- 
terest of  the  scene,  all  created  intelligences  gather  around  to 
watch  the  progress  of  the  vast  experiment ;  superhuman  be- 
inors  minijle  their  immortal  enero-ies  in  the  terrible  conflict; 
holy  angels  fly  with  winged  speed  with  messages  of  love ; 
devils  range  abroad  on  their  own  hellish  missions;  God  him- 
self comes  down  and  adds  new  graiuleur  to  the  scene  by  his 
own  imnjediate  presence ;  and  he  who  is  mighty  to  save  trav- 
ails in  the  greatness  of  his  strength,  and  bears  in  his  own 
body  on  the  cross  the  whole  burden  of  a  world's  transgressions. 
Satan  falls  like  lightning  from  the  sky,  and  rejoicing  heralds 
hurry  from  land  to  land,  to  tell  the  story  of  this  mysterious 
sufferer  and  this  wonderful  deliverance ;  and  the  angel  with 
the  evei-lasting  Gospel  flies  midway  in  the  heaven,  bearing  it 
onward  on  pinions  of  light,  and  with  an  arm  of  power,  far 
above  all  human  opposition,  to  shed  its  benignant  radiance 
over  all  the  world.  The  loud  hosannas  of  earth  are  echoed 
back  by  angelic  anthems  from  the  sky,  and  the  New  Jerusa- 
lem comes  down  from  heaven  upon  all  the  renovated  earth; 
and  amidst  the  shouts  and  the  rapturous  hallelujahs  of  redeemed 
an<l  sanctifled  millions,  the  great  drama  of  the  world  hastens 
to  a  close,  and  the  scenes  of  a  vast  and  unknown  eternity  un- 
told in  their  solemn  grandeur  before  our  view.  Amidst  tlie 
glories  ami  terrors  of  this  scene,  the  sinner  stands;  amidst 
its  conflicts  and  its  perils.  Above,  around,  on  every  side, 
moves  on  this  mighty  scheme,  and  bears  him  onward,  though 


450  INFLUENCE   OF  EA'IL   SPIRITS. 

uiifelt  by  him,  to  his  final  destination.  Mysterious  agencies 
encircle  him  on  every  side.  An  unseen  power  overshadows 
him  with  its  awful  presence.  Above  him  is  a  holy  God,  with- 
in him  is  an  immortal  spirit,  before  him  is  a  long  eternity  of 
joy  or  woe ;  around  him  on  every  side  are  immortal  spirits, 
movinor  onward  with  him  to  the  same  olorious  or  fearful  retri- 
bution ;  wliile  many  a  noble  heart  beats  liigh  with  generous 
ardor  in  view  of  these  great  realities,  and  many  a  tear  is 
dropped,  and  many  a  sigh  is  heaved,  and  many  a  prayer  is  of- 
fered, as  tlie  awed  spirit  bows  before  the  throne  of  God,  and 
asks  that  the  sinner  may  be  awakened  from  his  madness. 

There  could  be  nothing  more  solemn  in  the  universe  of  God. 
A  sublime  and  awful  earnestness  is  stamped  on  every  feature 
and  on  every  part  of  this  great  plan.  There  is  a  solemn  earn- 
estness in  every  message  that  issues  from  that  great  white 
throne,  and  summons  back  a  rebellious  world  to  its  allegiance 
to  the  king.  In  that  mysterious  form  Avhere  infinite  pity  and 
infinite  woe  are  strangely  blended,  where  eternal  justice  and 
eternal  love,  the  extremes  of  divine  compassion  and  of  human 
suffering,  mysteriously  meet ;  in  the  garden  and  the  cross  ; 
in  the  bloody  sweat,  the  meek  endurance,  the  imperial  triumph  ; 
in  the  blackening  heavens,  the  quaking  earth,  the  bursting 
rocks,  the  awakening  dead,  there  is  a  sad  solemnity  of  earnest- 
ness, the  solemn  urgency  of  some  high  and  overmastering  pur- 
pose. In  the  martyr's  dungeon  and  the  martyr's  blood,  in  the 
martyr's  fiery  agony  and  the  martyr's  shout  of  triumph,  in 
Apostolic  sufferings  and  Apostolic  toils,  their  solemn  warnings, 
their  tender  entreaties,  their  terrible  denunciations ;  in  the 
seraph's  shout  of  "  Glory  in  the  Highest,"  in  the  seraph's 
swift  obedience  and  adoring  Avonder  at  the  cradle  and  the 
cross ;  in  all  of  these  is  there  not  a  deep  intensity  of  holy 
earnestness,  which  no  human  language  can  express  ?  And  is 
not  that  a  terrible  earnestness  of  him  the  great  enemy  of  souls, 
who,  though  cast  down  from  heaven,  yet,  rebounding  from  the 
fiill,  reasserts  his  dominion  upon  earth,  and  through  long  cen- 
turies of  tears  and  blood,  though  often  foiled,  still  pursues 
with  desperate  zeal  his  hellish  purpose,  and  plies  liis  devilivsh 


INFLUENCE   OF  EVIL   SPIRITS.  4ol 

stratagems  to  seduce  and  ruin  the  souls  of  men  ?  Yet,  amidst 
all  this  earnestness  in  heaven  and  earth  and  hell,  the  madman 
dares  to  tritle !  He  trifles  in  full  view  of  Calvary,  with  all  its 
awful  accompaniments  of  sublimity  and  terror.  He  trifles 
with  the  cross  and  him  who  liung  there  in  his  agony  and  love ; 
trifles  with  the  precious  blood  of  our  redemption,  with  the 
blood  of  liis  own  immortality.  Nay,  he  dares  to  trifle  beneath 
the  great  eye  of  God,  and  beneath  his  uplifted  arm  of  omnipo- 
tent vengeance.  Madman,  beware  !  Go,  mock  at  the  lightning 
as  it  falls  crash  after  crash  upon  thy  doomed  home,  and  laugh 
and  jest  above  its  smouldering  ruins,  where  thy  dearest  ones 
lie  buried !  Go,  brave  the  fury  of  the  hurricane  as  it  sweeps 
over  sea  and  land,  tossing  forests  and  navies  and  human  habi- 
tations lightly  in  the  air,  and  leaving  no  living  thing  behind 
on  its  broad  path  of  utter  desolation !  But  trifle  not  with 
liim  who  speeds  the  lightning  on  its  errand  of  death,  and  lets 
loose  the  imprisoned  elements  to  be  his  ministers  of  vengeance. 
Go,  be  merry,  if  you  can,  amidst  the  ruins  of  some  desolate 
city,  which  the  earthquake  has  demolished,  where  the  mangled 
remains  of  the  dying  and  the  dead  lie  quivering  in  tlieir  gore, 
beneath  the  buildings  which  were  once  their  homes,  and  are 
now  their  sepulchres.  Go,  play  the  buffoon  there;  it  is  but  an 
earthly  tragedy,  let  it  be  followed  by  an  earthly  farce.  Hu- 
man madness  has  invoked  it,  let  human  madness  riot  amid  the 
scene  with  song  and  laugh  and  jest  and  wild  delirious  merri- 
ment. But  there  is  a  ruin  which  is  not  of  earth — the  ruin  of 
an  inmiortal  spirit !  Mock  not  at  that.  Those  earthly  ruins 
may  be  rebuilt  once  more,  rise  in  equal  beauty  and  perhaps  in 
loftier  grandeur  than  before.  But  for  a  lost  spirit  there  is  no 
recovery :  from  that  ruin  there  is  no  resurrection.  There  is 
but  one  God,  one  heaven,  one  Saviour,  one  probation.  God 
has  no  second  Son  to  give  if  Christ  be  rejected.  Man  has  no 
second  soul  to  be  saved  if  this  be  lost.  For  "  the  salvation  of 
their  soul  is  precious  and  it  ceaseth  forever." 

A  lost  soul !  AVhat  language  could  portray  the  ruin  of  a 
soul  lost  forever !  Well  might  the  most  gifted  orator  of  onr  day 
exclaim,  as  liis  great  mind  trembles  beneath  the  overwhelming 


452  INFLUENCE   OF   EVIL  SPIRITS. 

solemnity  of  the  theme,  and  his  own  majestic  language,  in  it« 
rich  and  varied  grandeur,  labors  vainly  to  convey  his  vivi< 
yet  inadequate  conception  :  "  What,  if  it  be  lawful  to  indulge 
tlie  thought,  what  would  be  the  funeral  obsequies  of  a  lost 
soul !  "  "  Wliere  shall  we  find  the  tears  fit  to  be  wept  at  such, 
a  spectacle?  Or,  could  we  realize  the  calamity  in  all  its  ex-| 
tent,  what  tokens  of  commiseration  and  concern  would  bel 
deemed  adequate  to  the  occasion?  Would  it  sufiice  for  the 
sun  to  veil  his  light,  the  moon  her  brightness  ?  To  cover  the 
ocean  with  mourning  and  the  heavens  with  sackcloth?  Or 
were  the  whole  fabric  of  nature  to  be  animated  and  vocal, 
would  it  be  possible  for  her  to  utter  a  groan  too  deep,  or  a 
cry  too  piercing,  to  express  the  extent  and  magnitude  of  such 
a  catastrophe  ?  "  *  Thou  mayest  be  thyself  that  ruin,  and  the 
nobler  the  edifice  the  mightier  the  ruin.  The  imperial  palace  of 
thought  swept  by  laborious  study,  gai'nished  with  all  the  stores 
of  learning  and  illuminated  by  brilliant  genius,  the  stately  arch, 
the  polished  shaft,  the  graceful  column,  the  colossal  dome,  nay, 
the  great  pyramids  of  thought,  towering  up  towards  heaven, 
may  lie  smouldering  in  ashes,  or  crushed  in  ruins,  vital  with 
an  intense  and  inextinguishable  consciousness.  It  is  no  human 
imagination,  though  endowed  with  pro[)hetic  solemnity  and 
grandeur,  but  God's  own  Word,  which  tells  of  those  far 
mightier  prodigies,  in  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  those 
fiercer  throes  and  agonies  that  shall  convulse  the  whole  frame 
of  nature,  when  nature's  funeral  shall  be  tolled  from  the 
heiglits  above,  and  the  blackness  of  everlasthig  night  shall 
shroud  the  lost  soul.  Xo  human  or  angelic  sympathy  shall 
then  avail. 

But  there  is  another  characteristic  of  ordinary  madness  to 
which  I  would  invite  your  especial  attention.  It  is  not  usually 
the  annihilation  of  the  mind,  but  its  perversion  ;  not  the  extinc- 
tion of  its  faculties,  but  their  misdirection  or  mutihuion.  The 
maniac  has  often  mental  activity  even  in  excess.  Each  inmate 
of  a  lunatic  asylum  readily  perceives  the  madness  of  every 
other,  though  unconscious  of  his  own. 

*  Hall. 


INFLUENCE   OF   EVIL   SPIRITS.  453 

You  "will  remember  tlie  ineident   recorded   by  a  gentleman 
who  vi^^ited  one   of  those  homes  of  the  insane.     He  was   ad- 
resscd   by  one  of  plausible  demeanor,  who   had  ingeniously 
oiled  every  effort  to  detect   the  seat  of  his  derangement,  who 
aid  to  him,  pointing  to  one  of  his  companions  in  misfortune, 
that  man  is  mad."     "IIow  do  you  know?"  was  the  visitor's 
eply.     "  Because  he  says  he  is  John  the  Baptist."     "  But  how 
o  you  know  that  he  is  not  John  the  Baptist?"     "Because," 
said  he  with  infinite  self-complacency,  and   equal  contempt  for 
[the  other,  "  I  am  Jesus  Christ,  and  if  he   was  John  the  Bap- 
tist he  would  surely  know  me."     Thus,  too,  in  the  great  niad- 
nouse  of  the  world  each  class    can  perceive    the  madness  of 
every  other,  though  unconscious  of  their  own,  and  are   often 
heard  to   exclaim  with  wonder,  and  even  with  bitter  indigna- 
tion, against  the  incorrigible  madness  and  merited   suffering  of 
jmankind.     The  man   of  middle  age  sees  nothing  but  the  wild 
nelirium  of  absolute  derangement  in  the  reckless  gayety  and 
pelfindulgence    of  thoughtless    and    dissipated    youth.     The 

ted  ate  and  quiet  citizen  distinctly  perceives  the  madness  of 
hose  ambitious  and  restless  spirits,  whether  warriors  or  states- 
men, who  have  made  the  world  mad  by  their  contagion.  The 
ardent  and  aspiring,  the  lovers  of  pleasure  and  of  fame,  return 
the  charge  of  madness  against  the  dull  drudges  of  ordinary 
life,  who  live  amidst  the  perpetual  stagnation  of  the  soul, 
without  the  intense  excitement  of  any  vivid  pleasure,  or  strong 
impulse  of  any  high  emotion,  or  the  broad  expression  of  any 
elevated  or  comprehensive  purpose. 

And  for  ourselves  we  believe  that  they  are  right,  for  if 
tliere  be  a  madness  which  in  its  stupid  obstinacy  transcends 
all  other  forms  of  human  folly,  it  is  that  dull  delirium  of  the 
soul,  which,  amidst  all  those  elements  of  grandeur  in  the  uni- 
verse around,  and  all  the  corresponding  susceptibilities  of  the 
FOul  of  man ;  amidst  the  mighty  interests  at  stake,  the  con- 
flicts that  are  waging,  and  the  lofty  sympathies  they  are  call- 
ing into  action  in  a  world  where  prophets  and  patriarchs  and 
apostles  and  martyrs  have  lived  and  prayed  and  toiled  and 
died,,  and  noble  patriots  and  heroes  still  are  living,  can  find  no 


454  INFLUKXCE   OF   EVIL   SPIRITS. 

object  so  worthy  their  pursuit  as  tlie  accumulation  of  worldly 
wealth,  or  the  attainment  of  a  transitory  worldly  distinction, 
But  are  they  not  often  shrewd,  keen,  sagacious,  far-seeing  in  all 
that  concerns  their  worldly  interests,  skilfully  employing 
their  own  resources,  and  dexterously  wielding  the  feelings  ancl 
passions  of  other  men,  to  accomplish  the  one  great  object  of  their 
wishes  and  their  efibrts?  Very  true;  yet  this  is  precisely  the 
characteristic  of  the  ordinary  madman.  He  too  is  quick, 
shrewd,  adroit,  cunning,  in  the  attainment  of  his  ends.  But, 
in  the  calm  view  of  sober  reason,  his  ends  are  not  worth  at- 
taining. On  every  point  save  one  he  exhibits  rare  activity  of 
mind.  On  this  he  is  the  victim  of  some  strange  hallucination. 
He  reasons  often  with  an  intuitive  rapidity  and  precision  sur- 
passing that  of  the  trained  logician,  but  his  premises  are  the 
illusions  of  a  distempered  fancy.  His  conclusions  would  be 
true,  but  for  the  madness  of  his  premises.  We  might  admire 
the  shrewdness,  the  energy,  the  undaunted  courage,  the  de- 
fiance of  all  difficulty  and  danger  in  the  prosecution  of  his 
object,  were  not  the  end  desired  too  frivolous  to  enlist  the  sym- 
pathies, or  command  the  approbation,  of  a  rational  and  immor- 
tal being. 

Thus  too  is  it  with  the  worldly  madman.  Even  amidst  the 
most  dazzling  exhibitions  of  the  poet,  the  novelist,  or  the  ambi- 
tious statesman,  we  pause  to  mourn  that  so  much  energy  should 
be  lavished  on  subjects  so  inferior.  And  the  wider  the  range 
of  his  inquiries,  the  vaster  the  accumulation  of  his  knowledge, 
the  mightier  the  sweep  of  his  genius  as  he  rises  in  this  ascend- 
ing climax  from  step  to  step  towards  some  fiery  burst  of 
oratorio  passion,  or  to  some  remote  conclusion  which  crowns 
the  summit  of  some  high  fiibric  of  reasoning,  the  more  pro- 
found is  our  regret  and  wonder,  that  a  miiul  formed  for  im- 
mortality should  summon  its  powers  to  their  highest  exercise, 
and  lavish  its  resources  on  any  theme  less  than  eternal  and 
divine.  He  may  have  read  all  history,  studied  all  philos- 
ophy, may  be  deeply  versed  in  the  science  of  human  nature, 
and  intimately  acquainted  with  the  mutual  relations  and  con- 
flicting interests  of  the  most  distant  nations.     He  may  bring 


INFLUENCE   OF   KYIL  SPIRITS.  455 

light  from  tlie  past  to  shine  upon  the  present,  and"  cast  its 
radiance  over  the  distant  future ;  and  it  is  precisely  in  such  a 
case  as  this,  where  the  greatest  of  earthly  efforts  has  accom- 
plished the  greatest  of  earthly  objects,  and  attained  the 
greatest  of  earthly  rewards,  and  the  greatest  of  earthly  mad- 
men has  gained  the  loudest  eulogies  from  other  madmen  around 
like  himself,  that  the  madness  alike  of  the  many  and  the  one  is 
most  distinctly  manifest.  He  can  tell  you  the  products  of  a 
nation's  soil,  the  value  of  a  nation's  commerce,  the  sources  of 
a  nation's  revenue.  All  this  he  has  calculated  with  minutest 
precision.  But  on  all  that  concerns  his  immortal  interests  he 
is  insane  ;  his  very  arithmetic  here  fails  him.  The  simplest 
of  all  problems,  the  most  solemn,  the  most  sublime,  the 
most  urgent,  pressing  every  moment  for  a  solution,  and 
from  which  there  is  no  escape,  he  cannot  solve;  he  recoils 
in  convulsive  repugnance  from  it,  scowls  on  it  with  a  mad- 
man's horror  and  a  madman's  hate  :  "  What  shall  a  man  be 
profited  if  he  gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose  his  own  soul  ?'* 
And  now,  as  he  is  charioted  along  in  splendor  through  the 
crowded  streets  of  some  illuminated  city,  cheered  with  the 
loud  applause  of  congregated  thousands,  who  hang  with  eager 
admiration  on  his  lips;  what  is  all  this  when  viewed  in  the 
light  of  eternity,  but  the  empty  pageant  of  a  maniac  proces- 
sion? And  does  not  he  who  sits  high  exalted  above  all  worlds, 
and  comprehends  all  time,  truly  stamp  the  charge  of  madness 
on  him,  who  thus  casts  away  the  celestial  diadem  of  glory  for 
a  fading  laurel,  and  exchanges  the  glad  hosannas  of  the  blessed 
for  the  wild  and  delirious  applause  of  a  fickle  and  besotted 
generation  ? 

On  every  faculty  of  his  nature,  intellectual,  emotional,  and 
moral,  is  stamped  the  broad,  indelible  impress  of  immensity, 
infinity,  eternity.  He  cannot  think  of  time,  but  it  swells  into 
eternity;  of  space,  but  it  expands  into  immensity  of  cause ; 
but  he  rises  to  a  first  great  cause  of  causes.  His  destinies  too 
are  commensurate  with  his  powers  of  thought  and  calculation  ; 
they  spontaneously  overleap  all  the  boundaries  of  space  and 
time,  and  acknowledge  no  satisfying  portion,  but  one  that  is 


456  IXFLUEXCE   OF   EVIL   SPIRITS. 

infinite  and  eternal.  Tlie  first  step  in  his  moral  life  is  from 
the  law  upon  the  conscience  to  the  legislator  upon  the  throne. 
The  first  ray  of  moral  light  comes  from  the  world  above,  ai^d 
in  the  last  hours  of  his  earthly  being,  when  every  sense  and 
every  faculty  whose  appropriate  theatre  is  earth,  is  failing  fast, 
this  which  peculiarly  links  him  with  eternity,  springs  into  new 
activity,  and  bounds  forward  instinctively  and  irresistibly  to 
the  bar  of  God  an<l  the  retributions  of  eternity.  Yet  all  these 
higher  elements  of  his  being,  and  their  correspondent  interests, 
he  wholly  disregards,  and  all  the  large  provisions  which  eter-  * 
nal  love  has  made  on  their  behalf.  To  all  his  earthly  interests,  ' 
however  trivial,  he  is  wide  awake,  quickly  sensitive,  keenly 
sagacious.  Touch  his  honor,  his  estate,  his  civil  rights,  and 
every  faculty  springs  into  spontaneous  activity.  But  the  in- 
terests of  his  soul  I  To  these  he  gives  not  one  anxious 
thought;  postpones  them  to  every  other  interest,  sacrifices 
them  on  the  most  frivolous  pretences,  to  the  merest  trifles. 
He  quaffs  with  eager  haste  the  intoxicating  portion  which  the 
world  offers,  though  he  knows  that  the  drugged  draught  is 
fever  in  the  blood,  and  madness  in  the  brain,  and  "wild  de- 
lirium. Every  avenue  of  sense  and  feeling — the  eye,  the  ear, 
the  heart — is  closed  against  the  solemn  realities  around  him, 
and  he  roves  and  raves  and  revels  amidst  the  illusions  of  a 
voluntary  intoxication.  Heaven  from  on  high  invites  him 
home,  and  her  everlasting  gates,  on  golden  hinges  turning, 
utter  soft  music  as  they  open  wide  to  welcome  him  at  his  ar- 
rival. Hell  from  beneath  yawns  wade  to  receive  him.  Ten 
thousand  voices  peal  above,  beneath,  around,  within  him ; 
from  the  bed  of  sickness,  from  the  chamber  of  death,  from  the 
freshly  opened  grave,  from  the  mouldering  sepulchre,  from  the 
sinner's  bed  of  remorse  and  despair,  and  the  saint's  couch  of 
rapture,  from  the  depths  of  his  own  agitated  conscience,  and 
from  God's  great  throne  on  high.  Yet  he  marches  heedless 
or,  his  eyes  fastened  on  the  earth,  and  his  heart  cleaving  to 
the  dust.  He  weaves  gay  garlands,  and  sings  merry  songs,  on 
the  very  verge  of  the  abyss,  which  is  crumbling  beneath  his 
very  footstep,  and  gaping  wide  to  engulf  him.      And  when 


IXFLUKNCK   OF    EVIL   SPIRITS.  457 

he  sinks  at  last,  his  epitaph  miu-ht  be  written  thxs:  Here  lies 
the  body  of  one  whose  soul  has  gone  to  jiulgment.  lie  lived 
like  a  madman,  and  as  the  fool  dieth  so  he  died.  One  moment- 
ary flash  of  intelligence  gleamed  horribly  over  his  last  hours, 
to  reveal  the  ruin  which  it  was  too  late  to  remedy,  and  he 
sank  back  Avith  a  groan  into  midnight  darkness,  lie  feared 
the  laugh  of  fools,  but  heeded  not  the  instructions  of  wisdom. 
He  courted  the  approbation  of  men,  but  feared  not  the  frown 
or  the  vengeance  of  God.  He  pampered  his  body,  and  neg- 
lected his  soul ;  and  the  wealth  which  he  spent  his  life  to  ac- 
cumulate, and  for  which  he  sold  his  immortal  spirit,  is  now 
enjoyed  by  others,  who  gayly  revel  in  his  halls,  and  of  all  his 
large  possessions  have  left  him  only  this  six  feet  of  earth,  and 
reared  this  monument  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  his  mad- 
ness. Reader,  pause  to  drop  a  tear  over  the  madman's  grave, 
and  offer  a  prayer  for  his  soul.  It  is  not  yet  too  late.  That 
grave,  that  epitaph,  that  history  is  thine.  Thine  that  life  of 
insensate  folly;  tliat  death,  that  undone  eternity,  too,  without 
repentance  is  thine  own  ! 

Another  cliaracteristic  of  the  ordinary  madman  is  his  ex- 
travagant estimate  of  himself,  of  his  powers,  of  his  fortune, 
his  immunity  from  the  evils  that  reach  common  men,  his  su- 
periority to  the  ordinary  laws,  and  independence  of  the  ordi- 
nary course  of  nature.  Perils  that  deter  other  men  have  no 
terrors  for  him.  Forces  that  w^ould  crush  other  men  shall 
pass  by  him  harmless.  Laws  that  encircle  other  men  with 
their  omnipresent  majesty  and  immutable  sanction  can  never 
reach  hlm^  were  not  made  tor  him.  He  mocks  at  the  lightning 
and  the  thunderbolt.  Tiie  floods  and  the  pestilence  cannot 
hurt  him.  On  his  behalf  the  laws  of  nature  are  suspended  or 
reversed.  He  leaps  from  a  window  and  shall  not  be  injured. 
The  law  of  gravitation  shall  be  suspended — rather  some  mys- 
terious charm  encircles  him  at  every  moment  to  insure  his 
safety.  His  puissant  arm  sliall  arrest  a  rail-car  in  full  speed, 
or  stay  a  falling  mountain.  He  breathes  the  pestilence,  and 
yet  shall  live.     He  drinks  the  deadliest  poison,  it  shall  be 

health  and  nutrition  to  his  system.     He  cherishes  the  young 
20 


458  IXFLUEXCE   OF   EVIL   SPIRITS. 

adder  in  liis  bosom,  yet  fears  not  the  venom  or  the  fling  of  the 
full-gTOwn  reptile. 

Just  so  is  it  with  the  youthful  sinner.  He  lives  and  moves 
and  breathes  amidst  a  tainted  atmosphere,  where  every  M'ord 
and  thought  and  feeling  is  full  of  worldliness  and  sensuality, 
of  ambition  and  hostility  against  God.  He  quaffs  with  eager 
joy  the  poisoned  chalice  wliich  the  world  offers,  and,  amidst 
the  fever  of  his  delirium,  dreams  that  the  spasmodic  energy 
of  madness  is  tlie  calm  vigor  of  health,  nay,  the  loftiest  exer- 
tion of  heroic  courage  and  manly  strength.  He  cherishes 
within  his  bosom  those  passions  and  those  habits  which  first 
coil  gently  around  his  slumbering  powers,  then  with  tighten- 
ing folds  embrace  every  faculty,  crushing  each  rising  energy, 
and  paralyzing  each  lofty  purpose,  until  at  last  with  their 
serpent's  eye  of  deadly  fascination,  and  serpent^s  hiss  of  ter- 
ror, they  send  the  serpent's  venom  along  the  whole  throbbing 
circulation,  through  every  vein  and  artery,  through  head  and 
heart,  and  every  member ;  and  the  man  stands  before  us  one 
bloated  and  hideous  mass  of  moral  putrefaction.  The  evil  as- 
sociations that  ruin  others  shall  not  injure  him.  The  habits 
that  enslave  Qthers  shall  not  master  him.  The  slightest  call 
of  inclination  lie  cannot  now  deny,  the  gentlest  breath  of 
passion  he  cannot  now  resist.  But  when  every  appetite  has 
been  inflamed  by  long  indulgence,  every  passion  glowing  with 
the  gathered  fuel  of  years  of  sin,  when  all  its  fires  are  up,  and 
all  its  energies  in  motion,  and  the  whole  train  is  sweeping 
furiously  on  to  its  destined  goal,  he  thinks  that  he  can  in  a  mo- 
ment arrest  its  mad  career,  and  even  reverse  its  movement. 
Pie  can  leap  over  the  precipice  of  ruin,  and  pausing  midway 
down,  shall  never  reach  the  abyss  below.  Nay,  like  the  mad- 
man of  whom  we  all  have  read,  who  spurned  the  vulgar  feat 
of  leaping  from  the  summit  of  a  tower  to  the  ground  below, 
and  embraced  with  eagerness  the  proposition  to  leap  from  the 
earth  to  the  top  of  the  tower,  so  the  sinner  imagines  that  he 
too  can  clear  by  a  single  bound  the  loftiest  heights  of  moral 
excellence,  and  without  the  slow  and  painful  progress  of  other 
men,  can,  by  an  effort  of  his  will,  be  at  once  a  Avise  and  virtu- 


INFLUENCE   OF   EVIL   SPIRITS.  459 

ons  and  liappy  man.  Aronnd  h'un  on  every  side  arc  tlie 
bleached  bones  of  those  who  liave  run  tlie  same  mad  career; 
and  Avrecks  of  wasted  fortunes,  and  ruined  cliaracter,  and  souls 
lost  forever,  are  strewed  along  his  path.  They  lived  without 
God,  were  ruined  without  remedy,  died  without  ho[)e,  were 
judged  witliout  mercy,  and  damned  "without  deliverance. 

But  the  laws  that  decide  the  destiny  of  other  men,  were  not 
made  for  him.  There  is  a  law  of  God,  eternal,  omnipotent, 
immutable  as  any  other;  a  law  extending  to  our  whole  intel- 
lectual, physical,  and  moral  nature,  universal  and  irresistible, 
and  which  has  no  exceptions.  It  is  the  law  of  habit.  We 
shall  not  pause  to  analyze  this  law,  to  explain  its  nature,  its 
origin,  its  necessity..  It  establishes  a  terrible  unity  in  human 
life ;  makes  the  past  the  parent  of  the  present  and  the  future, 
the  boy  the  father  of  the  man  ;  and  passes  on  to  the  trembling 
hand  of  the  aged  sinner  the  cup  of  bitterness  which  had  been 
mingled  by  his  youthful  folly.  It  binds  together  by  liidvs 
stronger  than  steel  the  remotest  boundaries  of  human  destiny, 
the  lirst  dawnings  of  moral  agency  on  earth,  with  the  final 
issues  of  eternity.  There  is  not  a  thought  of  the  mind,  or  an 
act  of  the  life,  not  a  word  that  issues  from  the  lips,  or  an  emo- 
tion that  flits  across  the  countenance  and  straightway  disap- 
pears, which  has  not  left  its  impression  on  the  soul,  deep,  per- 
manent, indelible.  You  shall  never  be,  through  all  eternity 
— can  never  be — the  spirit  you  might  have  been,  but  for  the 
thoughts  and  acts  of  yesterday.  Siu  may  be  forgiven,  but 
never  obliterated.  The  wound  it  has  inflicted  on  the  soui  may 
be  healed,  but  the  scar  remains.  The  moment  just  passed  is 
gone  indeed,  but  it  is  not  destroyed.  It  has  gone  to  mingle 
Avith  the  solemn  ages  of  the  eternity  that  is  })ast.  It  has  gone 
to  bear  its  record  to  the  bar  of  Ciod,  but  it  has  left  behind  a 
more  fearfid  record  here.  Its  thoughts,  passions,  purposes,  have 
mingled  with  all  the  elements  of  our  being,  have  been  incor- 
porated into  the  very  constitution  of  our  nature,  have  pene- 
ti-ated  the  whole  texture  of  our  existence,  and  become  the 
warp,  web,  and  -svoof  of  our  whole  future  life. 

But  if  such  be  the  dominion  of  habit  in  every  department 


460  IXFLUEXCE   OF   EVIL   SPIRITS. 

of  onr  nature,  if  it  not  only  moulds  our  thoughts  and  actions, 
but  tlie  very  capacity  to  think  and  act ;  when  we  ascend  to 
the  department  of  our  moral  nature  it  seems  to  be  endowed 
\vith  a  peculiar  and  almost  supernatural  control — a  control 
which  leads  us  to  suspect  that  as  the  body  was  formed  for  the 
service  of  the  mind,  and  the  mind  was  formed  for  the  service 
of  God,  so  this  law  of  habit,  when  viewed  in  its  higher  and 
wider  relations,  is  nothing  less  than  the  solemn  utterance  cf 
God's  approbation  of  the  right,  and  judicial  condemnation  of 
the  wrong.  Thus  much  at  least  is  certain,  that  as  it  is  the 
sweet  and  precious  privilege  of  virtue  ever  to  become  more 
virtuous,  and  as  the  stream  of  life  flows  on  to  diffuse  itself 
continually  in  ever-wider  expansion,  and  profounder  depllis  of 
piety;  so  it  is  the  irrevocable  and  umnitigable  curse  of  sin, 
that  it  must  perpetuate  and  multiply  itself,  in  ever  accumulat- 
ing hideousness  and  horror,  must  become  more  "  exceeding 
sinful,"  must  diffuse  itself  by  an  infernal  -contagion  over  all 
around  and  all  within,  passing  from  faculty  to  faculty,  till  the 
whole  man  is  mastered  ;  from  the  body  to  the  mind,  from  the 
appetites  to  the  passions,  from  the  passions  to  the  imagination, 
from  the  imagination  to  the  reasoning  powers  and  the  moral 
sentiments,  from  the  transient  and  momentary  indulgence  to  a 
whole  life  of  sin ;  when  tlie  memory  recalls  only  scenes  of 
past  indulgence,  the  heart  pants  only  after  forbidden  things, 
the  polluted  imagination,  impotent  to  resist,  riots  amidst  im- 
agery of  licentious  joy,  and  every  power  of  thought  and  feel- 
ing and  association  sweeps  bounding  on  in  the  broad  deep 
channel  of  habitual  desire,  onh^  to  swell  the  current  they  can- 
not stem.  Resistance  now  is  hopeless,  even  were  it  not  im- 
possible, and  impossible  if  it  were  not  hopeless,  for  tlie  only 
power  of  resistance,  the  will^  is  captive.  "  Can  the  Ethiopian 
change  his  skin,  or  the  leopard  his  spots?"  "Then  may  ye 
also  do  good  who  are  accustomed  to  do  evil."  Every  sin  in- 
dulged increases  the  power  of  temptation,  and  diminishes  the 
power  of  resistance.  The  voice  of  conscience  is  feebler,  the 
decisions  of  reason  less  distinct,  the  motives  for  the  right  pre- 
^sent  themselves  more  seldom,  and  with  decreasing  confidence. 


INFLUEXCE   OF   EVIL   SPIRITS.  401- 

Tlie  motives  to  tlic  wrong  nisli  in,  in  greater  number  and  with 
increasing  importunity,  upon  the  enfeebled  and  distracted  mind. 

Xo  man  renounces  at  once  all  fear  of  God,  all  reverence  for 
religion,  all  sense  of  shame,  all  the  ])i-inciples  of  honor.  He 
offers  first  a  faint  resistance  ;  then  parleys  and  temporizes  with 
the  foe;  then  receives  him  into  the  citadel;  then  wears  his 
gaudy  silken  fetters,  exults  in  his  bondage,  glories  in  his 
shame;  then  receives  reluctantly  his  manacles  of  steel,  and 
groans  beneatli  the  burden;  then  madly  dances  to  the  music 
of  his  chains. 

Such,  then,  is  the  law  of  habit,  wliich  is  nothing  else  than 
the  insidious  power  of  sin — the  eternal  law  of  God  and  na- 
ture— the  inexorable  doom  stamped  indelibly  upon  its  brow 
by  the  hand  of  the  Almighty,  and  legible  to  all.  It  is 
written  in  the  blood  of  millions,  and  yet  the  madman  fan- 
cies that  this  most  terrible  and  universal  of  all  God's  laws 
is  suspended  in  regard  to  him;  that  he  can  defy  its  terrors 
and  cast  its  fetters  from  him.  The  cord  which  binds  him  to 
the  world,  and  holds  him  away  from  God,  is  composed  of 
many  a  subtle  and  invisible  strand,  which  liabit  and  early  as- 
sociation have  already  woven  out  of  the  elements  of  his  fallen 
nature.  He  cannot  burst  from  them  even  now;  cannot  even 
wish  to  be  free.  The  fetters  have  reached  his  soul  and  para- 
lyzed its  130 wer,  and  yet  he  believes  that  when  years  of  sin 
have  strengthened  the  cords  that  bind  liim,  and  enfeebled  all 
liis  powers,  he  who  could  not  burst  the  cords — and  each  day 
of  sin  is  adding  another  and  yet  another  strand — will,  by  an 
easy  effort,  rend  asunder  the  cable.  Each  step  in  sin  is  bear- 
ing him  further  from  God  and  nearer  hell,  and  as  tlie  distance 
widens,  the  attraction  of  the  good  diminishes,  and  the  power 
of  evil  increases  its  strange  and  dreadful  fascination.  And 
yet  he  madly  hopes  that  when  he  has  wandered  for  years  fur- 
ther and  further  away  from  God  and  heaven,  he  will  find  him- 
self very  near  the  kingdom;  and  need  only  stretch  forth  his 
hand  in  the  hour  of  ids  extremity,  and  knock  at  tlie  d(;or  of 
heaven,  and  it  shall  be  opened. 

This  leads  us  to  consider  another  law  of  God's   moral  o-ov- 


462  IXl'LUEXCE   OF  EVIL  SPIRITS. 

ernment,  of  wliich  tlie  former  one  is  the  counterpart.  The 
one  is  learned  from  experience  and  reason,  the  otlier  from 
revelation.  The  one  lies  amidst  the  mysteries  of  linman 
agency,  the  other  amidst  the  higher  mysteries  of  the  divine 
administration.  Both  may  perhaps  be  traced  upward  even 
by  us  to  one  common  principle,  the  mind  of  eternal  justice. 
Both  are  exemplified  on  the  theatre  of  human  aifairs.  Both 
have  their  solemn  and  tremendous  issues  in  eternity.  The  one 
tells  us  that  if  we  dally  wdth  sin  we  shall  be  the  slaves  of  sin  ; 
that  if  we  trifle  with  conscience  we  shall  not  see  its  light,  nor 
hear  its  voice,  nor  enjoy  its  influences.  That  voice,  if  stifled, 
shall  v/ax  feebler  and  feebler  still,  while  the  uproar  of  the 
passions  shall  be  louder  and  louder,  and  the  very  power  to 
hear  shall  become  extinct.  The  other  bears  us  at  once  amidst 
the  realities  of  the  unseen  world  of  spirits;  and  shows  us  this 
same  law  transferred  to  the  agencies  of  that  higher  supernat- 
ural administration.  It  tells  us  of  a  holy  Spirit  of  God  that 
visits  the  soul  of  man  to  arouse  the  slumbering  conscience, 
and  quicken  the  dull  perceptions,  and  points  to  a  coming 
judgment.  And  now  he  whispers  in  tones  of  gentlest  invita- 
tion ;  and  now  he  thunders  of  the  wrath  to  come  ;  and  now 
he  pours  the  light  of  a  convincing  demonstration  on  the  be- 
nighted understanding ;  and  now  he  reveals  the  beauty  of  holi- 
ness and  the  love  of  a  dying  Saviour  in  melting  tenderness ; 
and  now  lie  discovers  to  the  startled  sinner  the  dark  pollu- 
tions of  a  soul  steeped  in  sin. 

Yet  ever  as  this  mysterious  visitor  is  treated,  will  he  treat 
the  soul  of  man.  If  kindly  welcomed,  he  will  often  return. 
If  fondly  cherished,  he  will  take  up  his  permanent  abode,  and 
make  it  a  habitation  of  God,  and  shed  abroad,  over  that  con- 
secrated soul,  the  light  and  peace  and  joy  of  his  habitual  pres- 
ence. If  neglected,  grieved,  insulted,  he  Avill  depart,  seldom 
to  return,  perhaps  never.  Xow,  the  holy  Scrii^tures  manifestly 
place  the  turning-point,  the  crisis  of  man's  salvation  precisely 
here,  amidst  all  the  inscrutable  mystery  of  God's  eternal 
sovereignty.  Yet  manifestly  in  that  strange  union  of  human 
and  divine  agency,  in  the  work  of  man's  salvation,  the  whole 


INFLUENCE   OF   EVIL   SPIRITS.  463 

interest  of  his  eternity  hinges  upon  this  single  question:  liov*^ 
does  lie  receive  these  visitations  of  God's  Spirit?  The  whole 
Bil)le  is  full  of  this  subject.  Warning  after  vfarning  rever- 
berates along  its  pages  against  the  slightest  indignity  offered  to 
this  Sj)irit.  Exhortation  after  exhortation  peals  from  propliet, 
evangelist,  apostle,  and  tlie  Saviour  himself,  to  welcome  with 
joy  and  gratitude  this  mysterious  visitant.  Example  after  ex- 
am ]»le  is  adduced,  in  solemn  and  terrilic  array,  to  show  how 
fearful  is  the  do<uu  of  those  who  slight  liis  oifered  influences, 
a?id  grieve  away  his  gracious  presence.  "My  spirit  shall  not 
always  strive  with  man,"  was  the  death-doom  of  the  antedi- 
luvian world;  and  in  all  the  wild  roar  of  those  tumultuous 
waters  as  they  swept  over  that  desolated  world,  or  the  shrieks 
of  the  perishing  millions  that  sank  beneath  the  billows,  there 
was  nothing  half  so  awful  as  that  solemn  sentence.  It  was  a 
God-abandoned  world  !  deliberately  cast  off  by  God  because 
they  had  grieved  his  Spirit.  And  when  our  Saviour  stood  and 
wept  over  Jerusalem,  what  was  the  burden  of  her  condemna- 
i'um?  The  accumulated  guilt  and  accumulated  vengeance  of 
fifteen  centuries  rose  above  their  heads,  the  blood  of  all  the 
prophets  was  upon  their  hands,  soon  to  be  stained  by  the  blood 
of  the  Son  of  God  !  But  all  this  might  have  been  forgiven. 
They  were  a  Gcd-abandoned  peo2:>le,  given  up  to  judicial  blind- 
ness and  judicial  insensibility.  "They  knew  not  the  day  of 
their  visitation,  the  things  that  made  for  their  peace  were  hid- 
den from  their  eyes."  And  when  an  individual  or  a  race  is 
given  up  finally  of  God,  it  matters  little  whether  the  fires  of 
conflagration,  or  tlie  waters  of  deluge  are  the  ministers  of 
justice,  to  summon  them  to  their  final  account. 

Around  this  central  and  decisive  point  in  the  great  moral 
warfue  of  the  soul,  all  the  thunders  of  the  Bible  roll  perpet- 
ually, and  all  the  forces  of  the  great  enemy  are  rallied,  and 
all  his  skill  is  concentrated  there.  Even  he  who  was  life  and 
truth  and  love  itself,  who  never  spake  but  in  love  and  tender- 
ness for  man,  even  lie  assumes  an  unwonted  sternness,  and  says, 
"All  manner  of  sin  and  blasphemy  shall  be  forgiven  unto  men, 
but  the  blasphemy  against  the  Holy  Ghost  shall  not  be  for- 


464  JXFLUEXCE   OF  EVIL  SPIRITS. 

given  unto  men."  It  is  only  here  that  ihe  soiemn  tenderness 
of  the  Bible  is  turned  into  bitterest  irony.  "  Because  I  h.-ive 
called  and  ye  refused;  I  have  stretched  out  my  liand  and  no 
man  regarded.  But  ye  have  set  at  naught  all  my  counsel,  and 
would  none  of  my  reproof;  I  also  will  laugh  at  your  calamity  ; 
I  will  mock  when  your  fear  cometh,  when  your  fear  cometh 
as  desolation,  and  your  destruction  cometh  as  a  whirlwind  ; 
when  distress  and  anguish  cometh  upon  you.  Then  shall 
they  call  upon  nie,  but  I  will  not  answer;  they  shall  seek 
me  early,  but  they  shall  not  find  me;  for  that  they  hated 
knowledge,  and  did  not  choose  the  fear  of  the  Lord;  they 
would  none  of  my  counsel,  they  despised  all  my  reproofs. 
Therefore  shall  they  eat  of  the  fruit  of  their  own  way, 
and  be  filled  w^ith  tljeir  own  device>i."  I  know  of  nothing 
po  terrible  as  this.  It  seems  as  if  the  very  heavens  above 
lind  become  one  vast  gallery  where  every  lowest  whisper  of 
human  mockery  was  gathered  up,  and  echoed  back,  in  tones 
of  stern  and  concentrated  definnce;  as  if  infinite  patience  were 
at  length  wearied  out,  and  the  last  drop  exhausted  from  the 
cup  of  God's  forbearance. 

Yet  it  is  precisely  here  that  tiie  madman  trifles  most;  trifles 
habitually,  trifles  daily,  is  trifling  still.  Examples  are  all 
around  us.  There  is  scarcely  a  man  in  this  assembly,  a  youth, 
a  child  who  has  reached  the  years  of  moral  agency,  that  has 
not  experienced  the  visitations  of  that  Spirit.  Where  are 
they  now? — those  meltings  of  ten'lerness,  those  tremblings  of 
terror,  that  solemnity  of  awe,  that  sensibility  of  conscience — 
the  falling  tear,  the  heaving  sigh,  the  murmured  prayer  for 
mercy?  Where  the  convictions  of  Felix  were,  after  lie  had 
said  to  Paul,  "  Go  thy  way  for  the  present,  at  a  more  conven- 
ient season  I  will  call  for  thee."  God's  grieved  Spirit  has^de- 
parted  :  is  it  forever  ?  One  act  of  deliberate  rejection  may  seal 
your  doom.  On  a  single  moment  often  hangs  suspended  the 
eternal  destinies  of  an  immortal  spirit.  There  are  in  the  life 
of  ever}' human  being  moments  big  with  the  issues  of  eternity 
— the  great  landmarks  of  his  existence,  w^here  the  past  all  ter- 
minates, and  the  whole  future  begins  anew. 


INFLUENCE   OF   EVIL  SPIRITS.  465 

But  we  must  pass  on  to  the  next  division  of  our  subject, 
and  here  can  only  give  hasty  hints,  and  leave  them  to  your 
own  reflections. 

Christ  only  can  cast  out  tlie  devil  and  heal  tlie  madness.  All 
philosopliy,  all  poetry,  all  literature,  art,  government,  civiliza- 
tion, refinement,  for  sixty  centuries,  have  been  but  varied  de- 
vices of  human  ingenuity,  to  exorcise  the  demon,  and  relieve 
society  from  the  evils  he  inflicted.  But  all  in  vain.  They 
could  alleviate,  palliate,  but  not  heal;  could  sweep  anil  gar- 
nish the  house,  adorn  it  with  all  the  choice  productions  of  hu- 
man art,  illuminate  it  with  the  corruscations  of  brilliant  genius, 
but  could  not  restore  the  original  and  rightful  occupant.  The 
demon,  startled  for  a  season  from  his  lair,  returned  to  his  va- 
cant habitation  with  seven  other  devils  worse  than  himself, 
and  controlled  for  his  own  malignant  purposes,  and  appro^Dri- 
ated  to  his  own  use,  and  imbued  with  his  own  spirit,  the  very 
means  employed  to  dispossess  him.  Sad  result  of  all  human 
history !  In  all  ages  and  all  nations  it  is  the  same.  All  human 
efforts  conducted  without  the  Gospel  have  not  only  proved 
failures,  but  have  aggravated  the  evils  they  aimed  to  remedy. 
Philosophy  has  alioays  terminated  in  atheism,  refinement  in 
effeminacy,  art  in  licentiousness,  freedom  in  anarchy,  and  then 
in  despotism.  "  This  is  the  moral  of  all  human  tales."  This  is 
tlie  goal  to  which  all  schemes  and  experiments  to  elevate  men, 
and  nations  withal,  without  the  true  religion  have  conducted 
them. 

The  sterner  and  loftier  virtues  of  an  earlier  age  are  alwavs 
allied  to  some  faith  in  God  and  immortality.  Increasing  civili- 
zation banishes  the  demon  of  superstition,  but  as  wise  men  of 
the  world  mutter  their  incantations  over  the  body  of  society, 
the  demon  passions  are  aroused  once  more ;  the  possessed  ex- 
claims, "Jesus  I  know,  and  Paul  I  know,  but  who  are  you?" 
And  nobility,  priesthood,  and  king,  law  and  order,  all  the 
learning,  graces,  and  refinements  of  civilized  society  with  the 
very  fcmndations  of  society  itself,  are  swept  away  in  the  wild 
whirlwind  of  revolutionary  passions.     Even   under  the  light 

of  the  Gospel  a  strange  phenomenon  may  be  observed  in  indi- 

20* 


466  IXFLUEXCE   OF   EYIL  SPIRITS. 

viduiils  and  nations.  The  evil  spirit  may  go  out.  His  power 
may  cease  for  a  time.  The  spirit  of  impiety,  blasphemy,  licen- 
tiousness, may  be  exorcised  for  a  season.  The  swearer  may 
cease  to  swear,  the  bold  blasphemer  to  revile.  Yet  how  often 
does  he  return  again — bitterer,  fiercer,  more  numerous  than 
before — the  very  spirit  of  infidelity,  hypocrisy,  and  formality. 
Why  ?  The  house  is  empty.  Christ  is  not  there.  If  we  would 
keep  the  demon  out,  every  apartment  of  the  soul  must  be  occu- 
pied ;  not  by  metaphysical  abstraction,  or  graceful  sentimental- 
ity, or  dead  dogmas ;  but  by  Christ  in  his  living  efficacy. 


XXVII. 

THE  FINAL  AND  UNIVERSAL  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  GOSPEI . 


Rev.  xiv.  6. — "And  I  saw  another  angel  fly  in  the  midst  of  heaven,  having 
the  everlasting  Gospel  to  preach  unto  them  that  dwell  on  the  earth,  and 
to  every  nation,  and  kindred,  and  tongue,  and  people."' 


We  shall  not  attempt  this  evening  to  open  the  book  that  is 
sealed  with  seven  seals,  to  unveil  the  mysteries  of  this  wonder- 
ful work,  or  to  discuss  the  truth  of  any  of  those  various  and 
conflicting  theories  which  have  been  advanced,  in  ancient  or  in 
modern  times,  respecting  the  millennium,  the  time  of  its  com- 
mencement, or  the  harbingers  that  shall  announce  its  near  ap- 
proach, but  shall  proceed  directly  to  consider  the  great  event 
predicted  in  our  text — the  universal  diffusion  of  the  Gospel — 
and  remark  : 

First,  tlie  glorious  certainty  of  this  event.  It  is  no  remote 
contingency  of  an  unfathomable  future — lies  not  among  the 
vague  ])ossibilities  or  even  the  liigher  probabilities  of  a  coming 
era.  We  have  learned  it  from  no  doubtful  rej^ort,  announced 
it  on  no  questionable  authority,  have  ascertained  it  by  no  cir- 
cuitous or  complicated  process  of  reasoning.  It  is  not  a 
wild  conjecture,  nor  is  it  a  delusion  of  fancy.  Oh,  no  !  I  saw 
it,  these  eyes  beheld  it.  It  was  on  the  Isle  of  Patmos.  I  was 
in  the  spirit  on  the  Lord's  day,  when  wrapt  in  visions  of  the  Al- 
mighty that  gave  my  spirit  strength  to  sweep  adown  the  gulf 
of  time,  in  full  possession  of  all  my  powers,  with  every  faculty 
invigorated,  purified,  exalted  by  direct  communion  with  God, 
till  in  that  high  apocalyptic  vision  all  the  glories  of  heaven, 
and  the  whole  future  history  of  earth,  lay  expanded  before  me. 

It  was  then  that  it  appeared,  not  a  shadowy  phantom  of  a 


468  FIXAL   AND    UXIVICKSAL 

disordered  brain,  but  openly,  boldly,  visibly,  palpably  it  stood 
before  me  a  transcendent  and  glorious  reality.  How  could  I 
be  deceived  ?  It  was  the  Gospel  that  I  loved,  and  borne  by  an 
angel  that  I  knew.  His  bright  pathway  was  in  the  midst  of 
heaven,  and  I  gazed  and  gazed  intent,  delighte<1,  till  I  beheld 
him  bear  it  to  "  every  nation,  and  kindred,  and  tongue,  and  peo- 
ple." I  saw  it  with  all  the  certainty  of  vision,  announced  it 
with  all  the  authority  of  inspiration. 

Again,  it  Avas  borne  onward  by  an  angel's  arm  of  power,  on 
an  angel's  pinions  of  strength,  with  an  angel's  devoted  love. 
Now,  who  shall  resist  his  progress,  what  barrier  retard  his 
career,  what  energy  arrest  his  flight  ?  "  Let  the  heathen  rage, 
and  the  people  imagine  a  vain  thing,  let  the  kings  of  the  earth 
set  themselves,  and  the  rulers  take  counsel  together  against  the 
Lord  and  against  his  anointed."  Let  all  the  combined  powers 
of  earth  and  hell  array  themselves  against  it,  let  them  hurl 
their  envenomed  missiles,  peal  their  loudest  artillery,  fulminate 
their  bitterest  denunciations,  let  all  the  arts  of  secret  malignity 
and  open  warfare  be  united — yet  what  will  it  avail  ?  Behold 
his  luminous  pathway  in  the  midst  of  heaven!  and  far  above 
the  puny  malice  of  his  foes,  fiom  country  to  country,  in  his 
own  sublime  and  serene  elevation  he  pursues  his  onward  career, 
shedding  down  the  light  and  joy  of  the  Gospel  on  successive 
generations  and  in  distant  lands.  The  mists  of  earth  may  ob- 
scure our  vision,  the  clouds  of  the  air  may  hide  him  from  our 
view,  but  to  the  unsealed  eye  of  him — lone  exile  on  Patmos, 
as  he  stood  on  that  high  mount  of  prophetic  vision,  there  was 
no  pause  in  his  flight,  but  it  was  onward,  still  and  ever  onward, 
onward  amidst  the  brightness  and  purity  of  heaven,  laden  with 
everlasting  blessings  for  all  the  nations  of  the  world. 

Oh,  brethren,  can  we  not  elevate  ourselves  this  evening  to 
the  height  of  his  sublime  and  blessed  assurance ;  do  we  need 
another  prophet  to  arise  and  teach  us,  that  the  Gospel  of  this 
kingdom  shall  be  preached  in  all  the  world?  That  no  weapon 
forged  against  Zion  shall  prosper ;  that  sword  and  spear  and 
battle-axe  shall  be  broken  together  ?  Has  it  not  been  so  in  all 
ages?     When  the  angel  commenced  his  flight,  beginning  at 


TPJUMPII   OF   THE   GOSPEL.  469 

Jerusalepj,  was  not  all  human  power  arrayed  to  resist  his  pro- 
gress; were  not  all  hum:in  interests,  prejudices,  passions,  leagued 
in  open  hostility  against  him  ?  Magij^trate,  people,  priest,  em- 
peror, philosopher,  fanatic,  wit,  eloquence,  argument,  learning, 
genius,  the  tongue,  the  pen,  the  sword,  all  combined  to  retard 
his  career — but  in  vain.  The  eyes  of  expectant  nations  gazed 
with  wonder  and  rapture  on  his  flight  ;  the  hearts  of  despond- 
ing millions  welcomed  the  message  that  he  bore.  The  very 
gods  of  the  heathen,  startled  at  his  approach,  grow  dumb;  the 
Apollo  of  Delphi  withholds  his  oracles,  and  the  Jupiter  of  the 
Capitol  abandons  his  throne.  From  land  to  land  the  tidings 
fly,  from  mouth  to  mouth  the  message  spreads.  The  haughty 
Roman,  the  polished  Greek,  the  savage  barbarian  heard  it.  It 
was  whispered  in  the  porch  and  the  academy,  and  the  philoso- 
phers gathered  at  Areopagus  to  hear  of  Jesus  and  the  resurrec- 
tion. It  has  resounded  amongst  the  hills  of  tlie  eternal  city, 
and  is  heard  amid  Caesar's  household.  The  eastern  mystic  has 
heard  it  and  is  startled  from  his  dn-ain.  The  northern  bar- 
b.irian,  as  he  drank  his  draught  of  blood  from  a  brotlier's  skull, 
has  paused  to  listen  to  the  story  of  one  who  loved  his  enemies, 
and  shedliis  own  blood,  an  infinite  atonement  for  sin.  Strange 
thoughts  are  waking  up,  new  hopes  are  kindling  in  the  minds 
of  men,  the  tremulous  agitation  of  a  new  life  is  felt  through- 
out the  world's  great  mass  of  putrefaction,  and  every  eye  that 
is  turned  toward  heaven  sees  that  it  is  an  angel's  flight. 

But  shall  Satan  without  a  struggle  yield  his  long  dimi'nion  ? 
Ko,  let  every  device  of  cruelty  and  f  ilsehood  be  plied  to  resist 
the  progress  of  the  Gospel.  Those  Christians  are  atheists  and 
despisers  of  the  gods,  says  the  priest.  Yen,  and  enemies  of 
CcTsar,  says  the  magistrate.  In  their  midnight  assemblies 
scenes  are  exhibited  of  licentiousness  and  crime,  at  which  day 
would  blush,  says  one,  and  in  their  hellish  orgies  they  devour 
young  children,  and  swear  horrid  oaths  as  they  drink  their 
young  blood,  says  another.  The  gods  have  abandoned  earth 
lor  their  crimes,  exclaims  a  third,  and  signs  in  heaven  above 
and  earth  below — earthcpiakes,  famine,  and  pestilence — pro- 
claim the  avenging  Deity.     Away  with  such  monsters  from 


470  FINAL   AXD   UNIVERSAL 

tlie  earth,  exclaim  all  together,  to  wild  beasts  or  the  fire  !  The 
Cliristian  martyr  walks  meekly  to  the  stake.  The  cup  his  Fa- 
ther gives  shall  he  not  drink  it  ?  But  does  the  angel  stop  his 
flight  ?  Tell  me,  does  the  sun  cease  to  shine  ?  the  stars,  do 
they  lose  their  brightness  ?  is  the  moon  turned  from  her  orbit  of 
glory  ?  Are  the  great  laws  of  nature  reversed  ?  is  the  universe 
of  God  unhinged?  Blessed  be  God  that  far  above,  and  Avide 
beyond  the  circle  of  human  passions,  the  theatre  of  human 
power,  extend  the  laws  of  a  wider  and  loftier  jurisdiction,  and 
that  he  who  sitteth  enthroned  high  above  them  all,  has  so 
subordinated  all  to  his  own  great  designs,  that  even  the  wrath 
of  man  shall  accomplish  the  purposes  of  God.  The  violence 
of  persecution  recoils  upon  itself,  the  enormity  of  the  charges 
contrasted  with  the  purity  of  a  spotless  life,  is  their  own  per- 
fect refutation.  The  Christian  dies,  but  the  undying  angel 
pursues  his  own  sublime  and  beneficent  flight.  And  from  that 
day  to  this  how  constant,  yet  how  vain,  have  been  the  efibrts 
to  prevent  the  diflfusion  of  the  Gospeh  In  the  days  of  Luther, 
pope  and  emperor  and  kings,  a  licentious  aristocracy,  and  de- 
praved priesthood,  could  not  resist  it.  At  a  later  period  the 
keen  swords  of  gay  and  gallant  cavaliers  could  not  suppress 
it.  In  the  last  century,  the  wit,  learning,  eloquence  of  Vol- 
taire, Rousseau,  Hume,  and  Gibbon,  and  in  the  present  the 
deeper  learning  and  more  insidious  wiles  of  German  literati, 
have  failed.  And  now,  after  the  scrutiny  of  centuries,  amidst 
the  accumulated  discoveries  of  modern  science,  now  that  a 
cautious  scepticism  has  sifted  all  knowledge,  and  all  the  lights 
of  genius  and  learning  are  intensely  concentrated  on  it,  we 
may  fearlessly  assert  that  the  Bible  stands  on  a  prouder  emi- 
nence than  ever — that  the  angel  who  bears  it  is  taking  a  loftier 
and  more  rapid  flight. 

Second.  An  angelic  mission  this !  the  difl'usion  of  God's 
Word.  God  and  angels  are  embarked  in  it.  So  vast  is  its  im- 
portance, so  overwhelming  its  grandeur,  that  it  excites  the  in- 
terest and  arouses  the  sympathies  and  calls  forth  the  activities  of 
the  heavenly  inhabitants.  Oh,  brethren,  what  a  thought  is  this 
to  confirm  our  faith,  to  rebuke  our  inactivitv,  at  once  to  elevate 


TKiLTMPir  OF  tup:  gospel.  471 

and  humble  us.  Let  us  not  amidst  our  degradation  and  misery 
forget  the  grandeur  of  oui'  higli  original,  the  sublimity  of  our 
future  destiny.  And  is  it  true?  Yes,  it  is  an  inexpressibly 
precious  truth,  that,  fallen  as  we  nre,  there  is  hope  in  our  case  ; 
that  though  Avayward  childien,  we  are  ciiildren  still  ;  that  we 
are  members  still  of  God's  great  and  universal  family  of  love; 
that  though  voluntary  wanderers  from  our  Father's  liouse,  yet 
the  fondness  of  a  Father's  love  yearns  after  us,  and  the  tender- 
ness of  fraternal  sympathy  melts  through  all  the  members  of 
that  family.  There  is  joy  in  heaven  at  the  repentance  of  one 
sinner,  and  that  joy  was  once  heard  overflowing  the  walls  of 
heaven,  and  bursting  from  the  sky,  when  they  announced  the 
Saviour's  advent.  "Thei-e  is  joy  in  heaven,  and  amongst  the 
angels  of  God,  over  one  sinner  that  reponteth."  Brethren,  all 
poetry  can  furnish  nothing  so  touching  or  so  beautiful  ns  those 
simple  words,  and  in  the  whole  compass  of  uninspired  philoso- 
phy there  can  nowhere  be  found  a  view  at  once  so  comprehen- 
sive and  so  just,  of  the  bond  that  binds  the  remotest  parts  of 
God's  moral  universe  together,  that  encircles  with  so  mild  a 
radiance  the  throne  of  the  universal  Father  and  universal 
King. 

And  this  is  no  doubtful  revelation,  no  casual  or  hasty  glimpse 
of  the  glories  too  bright  to  be  endured — not  one  of  those  flashes, 
intolerably  bright,  from  that  ineflTable  glory,  which  dazzle  nnd 
stun  us  by  the  grandeur  of  their  revelation.  It  is  one  of  the 
clearest  and  most  frequent  teachings  of  God's  Word,  lies  at 
tlie  very  foundation  of  the  method  of  salvation,  is  interwoven 
with  the  whole  fabric  of  God's  truth.  Without  it,  we  could 
neither  understand  the  ministry  of  angels,  nor  the  sacrifices  of 
his  Son.  "  God  so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his  only  be- 
gotten Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  him,  should  not  perish, 
but  have  everlasting  life."  This  was  at  once  the  measure  of 
his  love  and  the  motive  to  the  sacrifice.  With  what  solemn 
dignity,  incalculable  value,  imperishable  grandeur  does  tliis 
invest  the  soul  of  man  !  When  God  would  commend  his  love 
to  us,  he  tells  us  of  the  price  he  paid  for  our  rnnsom:  and 
what?     A  whole  world  of  matter?    Xo.    The  whole  material 


472  UNIVERSAL  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 

universe?  Did  lie  take  liis  brightest  angel ?  Did  he  take  all 
matter,  and  offer  on  it  all  spirit  ?  Xo ;  but  he  did  more.  He 
went  into  his  own  bosom,  and  gave  his  only  begotten  and  well- 
beloved  Son.  And  then  he  chose  the  princes  of  liis  house- 
hold, prime-ministers  from  around  his  throne,  to  be  the  minis- 
ters and  messengers  of  his  love.  What  an  elevated  theatre 
have  we  to  act  upon  !  What  a  load  of  infamy,  or  crown  of 
moral  approbation,  are  we  to  receive  according  to  our  conduct 
or  characters  here  !  God  and  angels  observe  our  conduct,  God 
and  angels  are  interested  in  our  welfare.  They  offer  us  all  the 
assistance  that  we  need,  and  if  we  shall  after  this  prefer  the 
poor  enjoyments  of  earth,  how  great  will  be  our  fall,  how  deep 
and  awful  our  condemnation !  All  the  glories  of  the  heavenly 
world  are  laid  open  to  our  view ;  Ave  have  only  to  accept  aiid 
be  saved,  to  taste  and  live.  If  we  refuse  the  offers  so  kindly 
made  us,  when  the  disapprobation  and  contempt  of  a  holy 
universe,  the  accumulated  abhorrence  of  all  that  is  good  and 
lovely  in  creation  shall  frowai  upon  us,  what  will  be  our  feel- 
ings !  The  church  then  is  safe,  though  men  oppose ;  there 
are  more  for  us  than  against  us.  Oh,  in  what  a  world  we 
live,  wdth  wdiat  awful  grandeur  encompassed  on  every  side, 
linked  with  God  and  angels,  tending  to  heaven  or  hell  I  All 
around  us  infinity  and  eternity,  above  us  incalculable  heights, 
beneath  us  unfathomable  depths,  within  us  capacities  of  un- 
limited enjoyment  or  woe,  energies  of  feariul  intensity,  which, 
perverted  or  rightly  directed,  may  bring  agony  or  joy  to  our- 
selves or  others — aiound  on  every  side  perishing  millions. 
But  is  all  heaven  aw-ake,  and  do  we  slumber?  Does  the  angel 
still  push  his  onward  flight  with  unwearied  pinion,  unabated 
ardor,  unquenched  and  unquenchable  love;  and  has  God  given 
his  own  Son,  and  are  we  inactive,  giving  to  this  great  cause 
the  tribute  of  a  transient  thought,  -and  an  empty  wish?  You 
remember  who  it  is  that  hath  said,  "If  any  man  have  not  the 
spirit  of  Chrjst,  he  is  none  of  his." 


XXVIII. 

CIirJST  WEEPIXG  OVER  JERUSALEM!. 


Luke,  x'lx.  41,  42. — "And  when  he  was  come  near,  lie  beheld  tlie  cit}-  and 
wept  over  it,  saying,  If  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou,  at  least  in  this  thy 
day,  the  things  whicli  belong  unto  tliy  peace!  but  now  they  are  hid  from 
tliine  eyes." 

These  words  were  sj^olven  on  our  Saviour's  last  solemn  ap- 
proach to  Jerusalem.  The  Feast  of  the  Passover  was  at  hand, 
and  already  six  days  before  were  gathered  the  thousands  of 
Israel,  from  every  corner  of  Judea,  and  every  region  of  the 
globe,  to  celebrate  that  solemn  festiv^al,  and  to  recoid,  with 
hymns  of  gratefr.l  praise,  the  d.-iy  of  the  right  hand  of  the  Most 
High,  Avhen  the  first-born  of  Ei^ypt  perished,  and  with  a  high 
hand  and  nplifted  arm  the  God  of  Jacob  led.  forth  his  chosen 
people. 

And  now,  as  the  crowds  of  annual  visitors  come  np,  while 
the  thronged  streets  are  filled  with  the  hum  of  a  lively  and  busy 
population,  acquaintances  of  the  past  year  are  revived,  the 
ready  recognition,  affectionate  salutation,  and  kind  inquiry  cir- 
culate;  bur,  above  all,  there  is  one  of  whom  all  inquire  and  all 
have  heard.  "  What  thiidc  you,  will  he  come  to  the  feast  ?  " 
But  he  was  one  of  spirit  far  different  from  theirs.  A  man  of  sor- 
rows, he  knew  this  visit  was  his  last,  tliat  a  life  spent  in  doing 
good  was  to  terminate  there.  That  holy  heart  knew  no  evil, 
yet  it  siiould  burst  beneath  the  burden  of  the  world's  trajis- 
gressions.  The  typical  feast  was  to  pass  away,  and  he  the  Lamb 
of  God  to  be  slain,  and  there  oliered  a  propitiation  for  sin. 

On  his  last  melancholy  passage  he  lodged  at  Beih  iny  in  the 
bosom  of  that  pious  and  devoted  fiimily,  where  ^Martha  minis- 
tered, and  Mary  sat  at  his  feet,  and  Lazarus,  raised   from  the 


474  CHRIST   T\^EEPIXG    OYER   JERUSALEM. 

(lead,  reclined  at  the  tal)le  with  his  astonished  guests.  It  was 
at  the  foot  of  Mount  Olivet  where  he  was  wont  to  retire  from 
the  noise  of  public  crowds  and  the  malice  of  foes,  to  meditate 
and  pray  amidst  its  groves  of  palms,  and  figs,  and  olives,  and 
vines.  Ah'eady  had  the  fame  of  his  morals  and  doctrine  gone 
abroad,  and  his  last  great  miracle  on  Lazarus  attracted  universal 
attention.  And  now  expectation  was  on  tiptoe,  friends  awaited 
his  glorification,  foes  his  destruction,  and  the  curious,  excited 
crowd,  aware  of  his  approach,  went  forth  to  meet  and  welcome 
him.  It  was  at  the  eastern  descent  of  Mount  Olivet,  as  it 
looks  toward  Bethany,  where  th's  throng  met  to  escort  him  to 
Jerusalem.  Here  they  hailed  him  king  of  Israel,  welcomed  him 
as  son  of  David,  strewed  flowers  and  palm.-branches  along  his 
path;  and  the  full  ti<le  of  joy  flowed  forth  in  those  songs  of 
exulting  and  raj)turous  praise,  which  the  old  prophets  wrote  in 
view  of  the  Messiah's  days.  "And  the  muUitudes  that  went 
beiTore,  and  that  followed,  cried,  saying,  Hosanna  to  the  son  of 
David;  blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord ; 
hosanna  iu  the  highest."  Matt.  xxi.  9. 

And  now  that  triujnphal  march  is  moving  on,  and  they  stand 
on  the  summit  of  Mount  Olivet — and  what  a  prospect!  It  is 
the  tallest  of  the  mountains  around,  and  commanded  a  view 
far  and  wide,  of  green  valleys,  vine-clad  hills,  seas,  and  rivers. 
Far  in  the  west  was  the  broad  Mediterranean,  to  hJ.s  right  the 
valley  of  the  Jordan,  to  the  soutii  was  the  Dead  Sea,  to  his  left 
Bethlehem,  and  before  him  Jerusalem,  with  her  lofty  towers, 
her  splendid  temple,  rich  with  the  offerings  of  ages,  and  august 
with  its  awful  ceremonies,  and  Iht  crowded  population  ready 
to  welcome  liim  as  their  long-expected  king.  A  thousand 
hearts  around  were  beating  with  exultation,  the  air  was  vocal 
Avith  his  ])raise,  the  distant  mountain-tops  echoed  back  their 
joy,  the  very  rocks,  we  are  told,  were  ready  to  break  into  sing- 
ing, and  all  the  trees  of  the  forest  to  clap  their  hands  for  joy. 

Was  not  that  a  proud  day  for  him,  the  despised  and  derided 
one?  The  man  of  Xazaretli  was  now  hailed  Messiah  of  the 
Jews,  the  son  of  the  carpenter,  the  hope  of  Israel  and  salvation 
of  ihe  world.     Surely,  if  innocence  ever  may  triumph,  it  is  when 


CHRTIST   WEEPIXG   OVER  JERUSALEM.  475 

the  clouds  obscuring  it  are  dispersed,  and  its  righteousness  is 
brought  forth  as  the  sun,  and  its  enemies  forced  to  yield  the 
tribute  of  their  apphxuse.  And  he,  the  man  of  sorrows,  did  he 
not  then  rejoice?  Was  there  no  glow  upon  his  clieek,  no 
brightness  in  his  eye  ?  His  bosom  heaved  indeed  with  an  un- 
wonted fullness,  but  'twas  the  fullness  of  his  anguish,  and 
amidst  all  the  joy  and  exultation  of  that  applauding  crowd  the 
Saviour  "  wa^pt."  He  looked  down  upon  the  city  lying  quietly 
and  securely  below,  upon  the  crowd  now  worshipping,  and 
soon  to  crucify  him,  and  as  he  thought  of  all  their  j^rivileges 
and  abuses,  of  their  past  security,  and  coming  doom,  his  heart 
was  overwhelmed  with  tlie  view  of  their  certain  and  self-caused 
ruin,  and  he  wept.  The  Saviour  of  sinners,  the  Prince  of  Israel, 
the  Lord  of  Glory,  wept.  It  was  a  city  of  unnumbered  privi- 
leges, and  he  wept ;  of  unnumbered  crimes,  and  he  wept ;  and 
■weeping  he  exclaims,  "Oh,  that  thou,  even  thou,hadst  known, 
at  least  in  this  thy  day,  tlie  things  which  belong  unto  thy 
peace." 

Xow  the  rules  of  God's  government  are  unchangeable,  and 
Jerusalem's  fate  is  the  type  of  others.  Consider,  1st,  Every 
man  has  a  day  of  merciful  visitation.  2d,  When  disregarded, 
the  things  that  make  for  his  peace  shnll  be  hid  from  his  eyes. 

I.  Life  is  such  a  day.  It  is  a  solemn  thing  to  live  in  God's 
world,  to  breathe  his  free  air,  tread  upon  his  earth,  be  upheld 
by  his  goodness,  fed  on  his  bounty,  in  him  to  live,  and  move, 
and  have  our  being,  to  have  constantly  around  us  that  aw^ful 
presence,  and  fastened  upon  us  the  keen  gaz.^  of  that  omniscient 
eye.  When  God  breathed  into  man  the  breath  of  liie,  he  made 
him  a  living  soul  endowed  with  high  and  immortal  powers, 
placed  before  him  a  noble  and  exalted  destiny,  and  brought  on 
him  solemn  and  fearful  responsibilities.  Now  life  is  the  time 
given  to  prepare  for  meeting  these  responsibilities,  fulfilling 
this  destiny,  training  these  immortal  powers  for  that  higher 
and  more  glorious  world,  their  ultimate  abode.  It  is  the  in- 
fancy of  man,  the  period  of  education  for  eternity.  Oh,  it  is 
this  which  gives  to  life  its  solemn  and  momentous  im[)ort — that 
every  circumstance,  however  mituite,  has  its  intluence  on  eter- 


476  CHRIST    WEEPIXG   OYER   JERUSALEM. 

nal  destiny.     Every  act,  word,  thought,  feeling,  that  flits  ovel 
the  mind  or  moves   the  heart,  gives  an  impression  which  nq 
time,  no   circumstances,  can   eradicate,  but    endures   througli 
eternal  ages.     Tiie  moment  just  past  has  gone  to  the  bar  o 
God,  and  its  testimony  is  there  recorded,  but  it  has  left  behiiic 
its  own  de?p  impression  stamped  on  the  soul.     You  will  nevei 
be,  through  all  eternity,  the  exalted  spirit  you  might  have  beeij 
had  yesterday  been  wholly  given  to  God.     The  past  may  b( 
forgiven,  but  never  annihilated :  the  wound  of  sin  may  be  healed 
but  the  scar  reraain?i,  a  memorial  of  our  folly  and  the  kindnesi 
of  our  good  physician.     A  chain   binds   our  whole  being  to 
gether,  and  its  smallest  link,  when  touched,  vibrates  throughout 
its  whole  extent.     Is  not  life  a  solemn  time,  a  precious  time,  i^ 
time  of  invitation,  of  reprieve,  of  visitation;  every  day  a  day 
of  mercy,  in  the  blessings  of  his  providence,  and  the  invitations 
of  his  grace. 

Your  life  has  long  since  been  forfeited  by  sin  ;  every  momentj 
it  is  preserved  is  a  merciful  visitation.  Think  of  the  many 
mercies  that  constitute  the  happy  existence  of  a  moment — how 
numerous,  delicate,  fragile,  are  the  cords  which  keep  in  play 
the  machinery  of  our  lives.  One  cord  snapped,  existence  is 
gone  ;  one  deranged,  its  enjoyments  are  fled  ;  all  diseased,  its 
misery  is  intolerable.  Do  you  remember  one  young  as  your- 
self, your  companion  and  friend;  his  pros})ects  were  iiair  as 
yours  for  life  and  continued  health  and  happiness,  and  he  is 
gone,  cut  oif  in  the  midst  of  si:i,  unwarned,  unprepared ;  and 
are  you  spared  ?  What  a  merciful  visitation  !  And  now  all 
around  is  calculated  to  call  you  to  God  :  the  works  of  his  hands, 
the  ordinances  of  his  house,  the  solemn  services  of  the  Sabbath, 
and  many  turning  to  God.  All  these  constitute  your  visita- 
tion.    Give  heed,  then,  to  the  things  of  your  peace. 

Consider  again,  that  prosperity  and  adversity  are  days  of 
visitation.  Parts  of  life  are  signalized  from  others,  and  some 
individuals  are  favoivd  with  signal  blessings.  Some  enjoy 
every  blessing.  Their  cups  overflow.  They  have  no  sickness, 
no  affliction  in  themselves  or  their  families.  All  their  schemes 
succeed  ;  every  day  adds   to  their  wealth   and  respectability. 


CHRIST   WEEPING    OVER   JERUSALEM.  477 

Their  talents  are  great,  their  influence  extensive ;  their  joy  over- 
flows in  feasting  and  merriment. 

What  is  tlie  design  of  God?  Wliy  that  inlluence?  To  be 
perverted?  Why  those  talents,  tliat  wealtli?  And  what  is 
tlieir  effect  on  you?  Are  you  humbly  filled  with  gratitude 
and  love;  or  do  you  say  in  pride,  "Behold  this  great  Baby- 
lon which  I  have  built?"  God  would  win  you  by  kindness, 
would  draw  you  by  cords  of  love  as  by  the  hands  of  man, 
would  give  you  greater  riches  and  pleasures.  I  knew  one  thus 
converted  amidst  surrounding  infidelity,  a  young  successful 
lawyer.  Providence  smiled,  industry  and  talents  soon  brought 
wealth  and  inlluence,  and  his  heart  was  melted.  Connected 
by  blood  and  marriage  with  some  of  the  most  distinguished 
scholars  of  Europe,  and  surrounded  by  infidel  society,  the 
goodness  of  the  Lord  led  him  to  repentance.  lie  took  up 
such  a  cross  as  none  of  us  have  to  bear,  and  sans:  the  sono-s  of 
Zion  in  a  strange  land  indeed. 

Xow  God  is  thus  visiting  you.  You  tremble  not  at  his  wrath, 
lie  would  conquer  you  by  love.  Your  indignation  is  excited 
Avhen  the  thunders  of  Sinai  are  pealed  in  your  ear.  He  ad- 
dresses you  in  the  language  of  love,  every  day  ministering  to 
your  wants,  every  night  watching  around  your  couch,  every 
moment  pouring  on  you  some  fresh  blessing.  But  will  you 
forget  your  obligations  and  responsibilities  ?  Then  fearful  will 
be  the  account,  as  that  of  the  steward  who  began  to  eat  and 
to  be  drunk  while  his  lord  was  away.  God  will  leave  you  to 
harden  yonv  Iieart,  or  will  bring  affliction  on  you.  And  I  ap- 
peal to  you  who  have  been  afflicted.  Has  not  tliis  been  God's 
last  resort,  his  strange  work  ?  He  afflicts  not  Avillingly. 
xVffliction  is  a  merciful  visitation  ;  so  the  apostle  Paul,  so  the 
Psalmist,  so  many  have  found  it.  This  life  must  be  viewed  as 
connected  with  another.  This  gives  prosperity  and  adversity 
their  true  meaning.  You  must  see  more  than  your  pain,  must 
see  the  hand  that  causes  it,  and  the  heart  that  guides  the  hand. 
Thus  all  the  events  of  life  form  part  of  one  great  system  of 
love,  and  all  the  threads  tint  guide  us  run  up  into  an  unseen 
hand.     Some  cannot  be   won   by  kindness ;  the  rod  must  be 


478  CHRIST   TVEEPIXG   OYER   JERUSALEM. 

used.  Success  intoxicates,  tliey  must  be  defeated ;  fullness  is 
not  good  for  them,  they  must  be  brought  to  want.  In  tlie 
majority  of  cases  sense  and  sensual  things  are  present  and 
urgent,  and  shut  out  eternal  realities.  We  need  solitude, 
retirement,  leisure,  to  reliect,  to  be  called  back  into  ourselves, 
to  commune  vrith  our  own  hearts  and  be  still.  What  has  been 
your  experience  in  prosperity?  What  is  that  of  the  world? 
Without  affliction  men  would  lose  one  half  their  better  earthly 
feelings.  Are  you  afflicted,  have  you  been  afflicted  ?  Then 
see  a  father's  hand,  kiss  the  rod.  It  is  a  visitation  from  heaven, 
and  calls  you  from  earth  to  the  skies.  Sanctified  afflictions 
are  the  greatest  blessings :  unsanctified,  bitter  curses. 

General  revival  of  religion  is  also  a  day  of  visitation.  Therel 
are  periods  in  the  world's  history,  when  religion  seems  almost 
extinct,  nniversal  apathy  and  formality  prevail  in  the  church, 
worldliness  and  hypoci'isy  and  heresy  among  ministers.  Then 
vice  prevails,  and  impious  men  bear  sway,  blasphemers  are 
bold,  licentiousness,  sensuality,  profligacy,  are  universal ;  the 
general  atmosphere  is  tainted ;  in  every  book,  in  every  society, 
you  see  irreligion  diffused  by  the  smile,  or  the  jest,  or  the  argu- 
ment, or  misrepresentation.  Such  was  the  last  century,  when 
genius,  learning,  wit,  power,  combined  to  extirpate  the  Gospel 
from  the  earth.  Again,  there  are  days  when  the  general  mind 
is  alive  and  wide  awake  to  religious  and  eternal  truths.  Many 
run  to  and  fro,  and  knowledge  is  increased.  Ministers  are 
clothed  with  salvation,  and  shod  with  the  preparation  of  the 
Gospel.  It  is  an  age  of  religion  and  religious  enterprise.  It 
pervades  everything.  Wherever  you  go,  you  meet  Christians: 
at  home,  abroad  ;  in  high  places,  in  low;  public  conveyances, 
everywhere.  The  Bible  is  widely  diffused.  In  the  parlors  of 
the  rich,  aiid  the  cottages  of  the  poor,  religion  is  respected,  and 
learning  and  genius  consecrate  their  powers  to  defend  its 
truths,  and  enforce  its  practical  importance. 

Such  were  the  days  of  the  Reformation,  and  such  is  our  day. 
It  is  a  day  of  visitation  to  the  world,  and  blessed  is  he  who 
sees  it.  Again  :  "  Religion,''  says  Luther,  "  is  like  a  summer 
shower  which  falls,  now  here,  now  there."     Countries  where 


CHRIST   WEEPING   OVER  JERUSALEM.  470 

tlie  Gospel  is  preacliecl  faithfully  and  plainly  are  blessed  to  the 
salvation  of  many.  To  live  in  such  a  land  is  to  enjoy  a  visit- 
ation.    Sueh  is  our  land,  and  blessed  are  ye  of  the  Lord. 

Again,  there  are  especial  seasons  of  awakening  and  conver- 
sion in  these  favored  lands — precious  and  glorious  times  when 
all  conspires  for  the  sinner's  good.  Man  and  God  urge  him, 
heaven  and  earth  combine  their  influence,  and  the  very  air  is 
filled  with  a  palpable  solemnity.  None  escape.  The  spirit 
operates  powerfully,  preaching  is  earnest ;  ministers  are  bap- 
tized, as  it  were,  afresh,  with  spirit  .and  power.  Whole  hosts 
enter  in.  How  many  long  to  see  such  a  day,  how  many  won- 
der.    Wliat  a  day  of  visitation  ! 

But  special  movements  on  our  own  hearts  create  a  day  of 
merciful  visitation.  They  are  the  beamings  of  that  light  which 
lias  come  into  the  world.  In  such  an  age,  such  a  land,  it  is 
impossible  but  that  such  influences  must  be  felt.  In  the  full 
career  of  sin,  in  the  bustle  of  the  world,  in  the  noise  and 
mirth  of  society,  one  feels  them.  So  Herod  cried  out,  "  It  is 
John, — John,  whom  I  despised,  imprisoned,  beheaded,  is  risen 
from  the  dead,  and  mighty  works  do  shew  forth  themselves  in 
him."  In  retirement,  in  darkness,  sickness,  meditation,  we 
have  caught  glimpses  of  purer  and  better  things,  when  all  was 
quiet  around ;  in  the  still  moonlight,  in  the  calm  sunset,  when 
the  mind,  freed  from  its  earthly  cares,  had  lime  and  taste  for 
higher  things.  Often  the  stillness  of  the  Sabbath,  the  voice 
and  venerable  form  of  some  reverend  father  in  Israel,  the 
memory  of  childish  days,  and  all  the  tender  impressions  then 
felt,  especially  of  her,  now  no  more,  who  watched  your  cradle, 
and  taught  you  to  lisp  Christ's  name,  have  called  up  tears  of 
sympathy  and  penitential  sorrow.  Thus  the  mind  has  looked 
away  from  earth,  and  risen  to  clear  and  etherial  views  of  truth  ; 
then  soft  and  gentle,  as  the  music  of  hea\en,  was  the  voice  and 
of  God  cdling  you  to  the  skies. 

II.  Consider  the  second  truth.  Xow  are  thej-  hidden  fiom 
your  eyes.  If  not  improved,  all  these  privileges  are  taken  away. 
This  is  the  universal  testimony  of  Scripture  :  "  to  him  tliat  hath 
shall  be  given,  but  from  him  that   hath   not,  shall   be  taken 


4S0  CHRIST   WEEPIXG   OVER   JERUSALEil. 

away  even  that  which  he  hath."  The  unprofitable  servant 
L)St  his  one  talent. .  So  tench  reason  and  experience.  We 
have  read  of  a  man  who  on  some  medical  theory  shut  out  tlie 
light.  You  can  anticipate  the  effect.  Some  fanatics  tie  the 
limbs  iiselessly  in  some  position,  form  is  destroyed,  the  blood 
does  not  circulate,  and  life  is  gone.  Man  is  an  active  being, 
and  must  be  actively  engaged.  There  are  seasons  in  religion, 
harvests  for  souls,  decisive  crises  on  which  hang  tremblingly 
everlasting  realities.  The  husbandman,  in  the  bright  days  of 
sunshine,  must  plough  and  sow,  and  not  wait  for  the  storm.  For 
some  of  you  there  is  to-day  such  a  crisis.  Then  improve  the 
day  of  your  visitation.  And,  now,  to  you  who  will  not  improve 
the  day,  of  your  visitation,  what  can  we  say?  The  Saviour  weeps 
for  you;  kindly,  affectionately,  would  he  call  you  to  himself, 
but  you  turn  aw.iy.  He  knows  your  certain  misery,  and  wept ; 
and  will  you  not  weep  for  yourselves  ?  Ah  !  in  your  hours  of 
merriment  you  have  great  cause  for  weeping,  and  could  one 
glimpse  of  the  future  burst  on  you,  you  too  w^ould  weep. 

The  lovers  of  this  world  seem  bound  to  it  by  some  strange 
spell.  The  form  of  some  secret  fiiscination  seems  to  have 
charmed  their  faculties  until  the  voice  of  reason  and  experience 
as  well  as  the  voice  of  God  falls  unheeded  on  their  ears.  In 
spite  of  all  that  we  have  known  ourselves,  and  heard  from  others, 
we  still  believe  that  the  w^orld  is  a  satisfying  portion ;  we  listen 
to  its  promises,  and  with  eager  expectation  grasp  its  unsubstan- 
tial pleasures.  There  is  none  who  has  not  been  sometimes 
rudely  awakened  from  his  dream  of  worldly  happiness  to  gaze 
upon  the  stern  reality  of  truth.  But  he  soon  composes  him- 
self softly  to  his  repose,  enjoys  the  same  visions,  pursues  the 
same  shadows,  clasps  the  same  phantom  form  to  his  bosom, 
starts  from  his  slumbers,  finds  it  all  a  dream,  and  sleeps 
again.  And  this  is  the  business  of  life,  the  employment  of 
threescore  years  and  ten,  bestowed  on  rational  and  immortal 
beings,  for  the  purpose  of  securing  everlasting  happiness. 

But  is  it  all  a  dream  ?  Is  it  true  of  the  great  and  the 
learned  and  the  wise,  the  shrewd,  sagacious,  calculating  men 
of  the  world,  that  the  objects  they  are  pursuing  are  as  unreal 


CHRIST   TVEEPIXG   OVER   JERUSALKM.  451 

and  unsubstantial  as  the  veriest  figments  of  a  dream,  that 
amidst  all  that  restless  activity  which  agitates  unceasingly  the 
millions  of  our  globe,  there  is  nothing  at  all  more  rational 
than  the  feverish  excitement  of  a  disordered  brain  ?  Yes,  my 
friends,  it  is  a  dream,  "all  the  wild  trash  of  sleep,  without  the 
rest."  Such  is  the  decision  of  God's  word,  and  sucli,  we  will 
endeavor  to  show,  is  the  unbiased  decision  of  reason.  What 
think  you  of  ambition,  then,  that  noblest  of  worldly  passions, 
"  that  last  infirmity  of  noble  minds  ? "  Of  all  the  restless 
beings  that  crowd  our  globe,  and  harass  it  with  their  mad 
designs,  there  is  none  more  evidently  irrational  than  the  ambi- 
tious man.  His  whole  life  is  one  long  pursuit  and  restless 
dream.  He  is  perpetually  haunted  by  visions  of  ideal  glory 
which  destroy  his  peace  of  mind,  impair  his  health,  and  beckou 
him  onward  to  some  dangerous  precipice,  whence  he  falls  to 
rise  no  more.  Amidst  the  glorious  delusions  which  swarm 
thickly  in  his  sight,  he  dreams  of  universal  empire,  of  undying 
fame,  he  grasps  the  sceptre  of  the  world,  and  already  hears 
the  paeans  of  its  millions,  and,  in  the  madness  of  the  horrid 
dream,  he  thinks  that  men  are  but  sheep  to  be  slaughtered  at 
his  will,  and  marches  forth  with  his  armies,  spreading  devasta- 
tion and  carnage  in  his  path.  But  at  last  he  meets  his  doom. 
Heaven  has  decreed  that  even  in  this  life  injustice  and  crime 
shall  often  experience  a  dreadful  retribution.  The  indignation 
of  mankind  is  aroused  against  the  common  enemy,  and  ambi- 
tion awakes  at  last  upon  the  rock  of  St.  Helena. 

But  suppose  the  delusion  had  lasted  a  little  longer,  it  would 
still  have  been  a  dream.  Suppose  he  had  attained  all  that  he 
desired  and  hoped  for,  that  Europe  had  bowed  beneath  his 
yoke,  and  Asia  and  Africa  and  America  extended  his  wide 
dominions,  till  the  sun  never  set  upon  his  territories, ^s  it  never 
did  on  his  boundless  and  insatiable  ambition.  Even  then,  he 
must  have  soon  awaked  to  a  sense  of  the  delusion.  The  happi- 
ness which  seemed  just  within  his  reach  would  then  have 
vanished,  and  as  he  grasped  the  object  of  his  long  desire,  he 
would  only  feel  the  crushing  energy  of  his  own  convulsive  em- 
brace. The  mind,  finding  no  employment  without,  would  have 
21 


482  CHRIST  "WEEPING  OYER  JERUSALEM. 

turned  in  upon  itself,  and  avenged  the  wrongs  of  a  world,  by 
the  very  energies  which  had  been  employed  to  subdue  it.  Of 
those  who  are  engaged  in  the  pursuit  of  wealth,  of  pleasure, 
how  much  more  rational  are  the  schemes?  How  vast  and 
visionary  are  the  expectations  of  success  in  the  pursuit,  how 
mad  the  anticipations  of  enjoyment  iu  the  possession.  Of  the 
millions  upon  earth,  how  many  are  expecting  to  be  either  rich 
or  great,  and  of  all  that  number  how  few  succeed. 

In  view  of  all  these  things,  the  uncertainty  of  life,  the  cer- 
tainty of  death  and  judgment,  the  transitory  character  of  all 
earthly  pursuits,  the  unsatisfying  nature  of  all  earthly  good — 
how  ought  you  to  pause  and  consider  your  ways,  before  the 
day  of  your  merciful  visitation  shall  be  closed  forever.  Wliat 
shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  shall  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his 
own  soul ;  or  what  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for  his  soul? 
The  attempt  to  gain  the  world  would  be  futile  ;  and  if  you 
could  gain  it  all,  it  would  be  unavailing  to  satisfy  the  wants  of 
an  immortal  spirit.  What  can  we  say,  what  shall  we  do  to 
induce  you  to  improve  the  present  moment  as  it  flies,  and  lay 
hold  on  eternal  interests  ?  We  can  only  set  the  case  before 
you  and  then  weep,  as  Christ  did  over  Jerusalem,  and  commend 
you  to  God. 


XXIX. 

AMBASSADORS  FOR   CHRIST. 


2  Cor.  v.  29. — "Now  tlien  we  are  ambassadors  for  Christ,  as  though  God 
did  beseech  you  by  us:  we  pray  yon,  in  Christ's  stead,  be  ye  reconciled  to 
God." 


The  Gospel  is  a  message  from  the  throne  of  heaven,  and 
every  minister  of  the  Gospel,  called  and  sent  of  God,  is  an 
ambassador  for  Christ.  The  message  which  he  bears  is  one  of 
awful  dignity,  of  supreme  authority.  It  is  God's  proclamation 
of  pardon,  God's  offer  of  reconciliation,  to  this  rebellious  and 
ruined  world.  The  position  he  occupies  is  one  of  high  and 
solemn  responsibility..  He  stands,  himself  a  dying  man,  be- 
tween the  living  God  and  dying  men ;  he  stands  a  sinful  man, 
between  a  holy  God  and  a  world  of  sinners ;  he  stands  a 
pardoned  rebel,  between  an  angry  God  and  his  offending 
subject. 

There  was  once  a  fir  different  messenger  from  heaven.  lie 
was  the  brightness  of  his  Father's  glory,  nnd  express  image  of 
his  person ;  and  although  he  left  the  glory  which  was  his 
before  the  world  was  made,  yet  did  the  radiance  of  his  essen- 
tial divinity  often  beam  forth  through  that  inferior  nature,  in 
which  it  w^as  enshrouded.  Mild  persuasion  and  high  author- 
ity sat  enllironed  upon  his  lips,  and  when  he  spnkc,  even  his 
enemies  unwillingly  acknowledged,  that  he  spake  as  never  man 
before  had  s])oken.  But  his  work  was  soon  finished,  his  mis- 
sion soon  terminated,  and,  after  a  life  of  sorrow  and  a  de;ith  of 
agony,  he  soon  abandoned  a  world  that  was  not  wortliy  of  him, 
and  sitteth  now  exalted  forever  at  the  right  hand  of  the 
Majesty  on  high. 


484  AMBASSADORS  FOR   CHRIST. 

And  Tiow,  the  great  work  for  which  he  became  incarnate 
and  lived  and  died,  the  message  which  fell  from  his  own  lovely 
lips,  and  was  sealed  by  his  own  most  precious  blood,  the  great 
embassy  from  heaven  to  earth — great  in  itself  but  stamped  with 
a  new  and  imperishable  dignity,  by  the  character  of  him  who 
bore  it  first — has  been  entrusted  to  earthen  vessels — to  men  of 
like   passion  with  ourselves.     Now,  also,  the  minister  of  the 
Gospel,  as  tlie  humble  representative  of  his  Saviour,  in  Christ's 
Btead  and  by  his  high  authority,  offers  a  treaty  of  peace,  pre- 
sents the  terms  of  reconciliation.     How  awful  are  the  subjects 
he  is  called  to  discuss,  how  vast  the  interests  involved,  how 
tremendous  the  consequences  which  may  result  from  the  neglect 
or  the  right  performance  of  his  duties.     The  Gospel  whicli  he 
preaches  is  the  Gospel  of  God,  and  however  feeble  may  be  the 
instrument  by  whom  it  is  proclaimed,  it  must  prove  the  savor 
of  life  unto  life  or  of  death  unto  death  to  every  soul  of  man 
that  hears   it.     O  brethren,   what  a  fearful    thouglit   is    this, 
that  of  all  those  miglity  crowds  that  gather  Sabbath  after  Sab- 
bath in  all  the  churches  of  our  land,  and  sit  beneath  the  warn- 
ings and  invitations  of  the  Gospel,  of  the  hundreds  that  liear 
me  now,  there  is  not  one  that  does  not  possess  an  immortal 
spirit,  hurryhig  onward  to  the  bar  of  God,  moulding  its  desti- 
nies for  eternity,  on  whom  each  sermon  that  he  hears  is  leav- 
ing some  deep  impression,  sealing  it  for  eternal  life,  or  stamping 
on  it  the  dark  impress   of  eternal  death.     Oh,  who  of  us  is 
sufficient  for  these  things? 

How  tremblingly  should  mortal  man  lay  his  hand  upon  the 
ark  of  God,  lest  he  perish  by  the  touch!  Oh,  who  could  have 
dared  to  hope,  had  it  been  one  of  our  early  dreams,  had  it  only 
mingled  with  the  -wildest,  boldest,  of  our  childish  visions,  that 
we  should  be  ministers  of  God,  that  on  us  should  all  these  high 
and  boundless  responsibilities  hereafter  rest,  that  to  us  should 
be  granted,  all  sinful  and  unworthy  as  we  are,  the  great  priv- 
ilege of  standing  up  before  a  dying  world  and  proclaiming  the 
unsearchable  riches  of  Christ,  the  great  salvation  of  our  God. 
How  fervent  and  earnest  would  have  been  our  prayers  for  di- 
vine assistance!  would  we  not  have  spent  our  days  in  anxious 


AMBASSADORS  FOR   CHRIST.  485 

thought,  our  nights  in  sleepless  preparation?  We  wouM  have 
improved  each  hour  as  it  passed,  we  would  have  seized  ench 
opportunity  before  it  was  gone  forever,  we  would  have  culti- 
vated to  tlie  utmost  the  limited  capacities  of  our  nature  ;  and, 
summoning  all  our  powers  for  this  high  service,  concentrating 
all  our  energies  in  one  burning  focus  on  tliis  great  object, 
would  have  thought  it  happiness  enough  to  })our  forth  our  full 
souls  in  one  earnest,  affectionate  remonstrance  with  dying  sin- 
ners, and  then  depart  and  be  with  God. 

But,  alas,  the  time  lost  can  never  be  reclaimed,  energies 
once  wasted  on  the  world  can  never  be  consecrated  in  their 
fulness  and  freshness  to  God,  and  it  is  only  in  great  weakness 
that  we  can  present  before  you  the  message  of  our  King.  Yeti 
we  address  you  in  Christ's  stead,  by  his  authority;  in  his  great 
name,  we  make  the  very  offer  which  he,  if  present,  would  make 
you  to-day.  Our  commission  is  before  us,  stamped  with  the 
Father's  approbation,  sealed  by  the  blood  of  the  Son.  And,  "  ho 
that  hath  ears  to  hear,  let  him  hear,"  for  we  come  before  y(.u 
on  no  light  trivial  errand,  come  not  to  comply  w^ith  an  empty 
form,  not  to  gratify  an  idle  curiosity,  nor  to  furnish  the  anmse- 
ment  of  an  hour,  but  to  discuss  subjects  of  large  and  enduring 
interest,  large  as  the  soul's  immortal  powers,  enduring  as  its 
never-ending  existence.  We  come  to  urge  you,  most  affec- 
tionately and  most  solemnly,  to  be  reconciled  to  God.  The 
sum  and  substance  of  our  business  is  to  show  that  there  is  a 
fearful  contro\  ersy  between  God  and  man,  and,  if  possible,  to 
produce  a  reconciliation. 

And  here  the  difficulty  meets  us,  on  the  very  threshold  of 
our  subject,  that  you  utterly  deny  the  existence  of  any  contro- 
versy, and,  of  course,  the  necessity  of  any  reconciliation  between 
God  and  man.  You  look  around  you,  and  everywhere  behold 
the  traces  of  infinite  benevolence.  All  nature  is  calm  and 
])eaceful,  the  blue  sky  is  spread  out  in  still  and  solemn  beauty 
above  you,  the  bright  sun  pours  its  mild  and  cheerful  radiance 
around  you,  the  soft  air  of  evening  breathes  gently  on  your 
brow,  the  warm  life-blood  bounds  merrily  fi-om  your  heart, 
and  flows  in  healthful  currents  along  the  arteries,  where  every 
21* 


486  AMBASSADORS   FOR   CHRIST. 

throb  is  joy.  You  mingle  in  the  gay  society  about  you,  and  as 
the  jest  and  the  laugli  pass  around,  as  the  dance  moves  merrily 
on,  and  the  music  sweeps  by  in  full  and  voluptuous  swell, 
you  yield  yourself  up  to  the  bright  illusion  of  the  scene,  and 
say  v.'ithin  your  heart,  surely  there  can  be  no  danger  near,  no 
clouds  and  darkness  to  gather  around  that  sun,  no  tempests  to 
sweep  across  that  sky,  no  thunderbolts  that  lie  slumbering 
there,  no  angry  God,  that  sitteth  frowning  in  the  heavens. 
Giadly  would  we  leave  you  to  the  enjoyment  of  tliis  pleasant 
dream,  but  as  ambassadors  for  Christ,  we  dare  not :  nay,  if  there 
be,  indeed,  a  fearful  controversy  between  God  and  man,  unset- 
tled, still  pending,  in  which  all  the  attributes  of  God's  nature, 
and  all  the  powers  of  his  government  are  arrayed  in  terrible 
liostility  against  the  sinner,  surely  it  becomes  every  reason- 
able creature  to  ascertain  the  fact,  and  ju-epare  to  meet  or 
avoid  the  danger.  That  such  a  controversy  exists  is  most 
clearly  manifested  from  the  language  and  the  acts  of  each  of 
the  parties. 

The  Aery  idea  of  '■^ rPConclliatio)i^-  in  our  text,  supposes  a 
eonlroversy  ;  for  if  there  be  none,  where  is  the  need  of  recon- 
ciliation? Again,  we  are  expressly  told,  in  the  Epistle  to  the 
Komans,  that '•  the  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God,"  nay, 
so  deep  and  inveterate  is  this  enmity  that  "it  is  not  subject  to 
the  laic  of  God,  neither  indeed  can  be.''''  And  the  Psalmist 
assures  us,  that  when  God  looked  from  heaven  to  behold  the 
children  of  men,  there  was  none  good,  no  not  one,  none  that 
did  I'uow  or  regard  God.''''  The  language  of  their  heart  and 
their  conduct  is  that  of  utter  evil,  of  bitter  derision  or  open 
defiance.  ''  Who  is  the  Lord,  that  we  should  regard  him,  or 
tlie  mo^t  High,  that  Ave  should  serve  him?"'  "How  doth  the 
Lord  know?"  "Let  us  burst  his  bonds  asunder,  and  cast 
liis  cords  from  us."  The  same  idea  runs  through  the  whole 
Kew  Testament,  where  sinners  are  represented  "as  enemies 
against  God,  by  reason  of  evil  works,"  "  as  enemies  to  the 
Cross  of  Christ,"  "as  rebels  against  God's  government,  and 
subjects  of  the  Prince  of  the  Power  of  the  air,  the  spirit  that 
reigneth  in  the  children  of  disobedience."     On  the  other  hand, 


AMBASSADORS   FOR   CHRIST.  487  ' 

God  is  represented  as  *'nngry  -with  the  wicked  every  day,"  as 
"laiighiiig  their  devices  to  scori),"  ns  pouring  down  from  his 
liigh  throne  in  the  heavens  the  bitterest  derision  upon  their 
puny  efforts,  as  arraying  himself  for  the  complete  making  ready 
liis  bow,  preparing  his  arrows  in  his  quiver,  as  a  man  of  war 
girded  up,  and  panting  for  the  fight,  as  a  lion  roaring  in  his 
majesty  and  strength.  Nay,  if  there  be  one  term  in  language 
which  can  express  more  forcibly  than  any  other,  indignation, 
deep  and  deadly,  if  there  be  in  all  nature  one  image  more  full 
of  terror  than  all  besides,  this  term,  this  imagery,  is  selected. 
Epithet  is  piled  on  epithet,  image  heaped  on  image,  to  impress 
our  minds  with  this  determined  anger  and  its  awful  effects. 
It  is  "indignation  and  wrath,  tribulation  and  anguish,"  it 
is  "  vengeance  and  fiery  indignation,"  it  is  "  darkness  and 
outer  darkness,"  and  "  the  blackness  of  darkness  forever." 
Indeed,  throughout  the  whole  Bible  we  are  told  of  a  kingdom 
of  light  and  of  darkness,  of  a  daring  rebellion  against  God's 
government  and  throne,  led  on  by  a  haughty  and  fallen 
Spirit,  and  aided  by  men  who  have  joined  the  standard  of  his 
rebellion. 

It  is  to  overthrow  this  rebellion  that  Christ  came  into  the 
world  to  produce  a  reconciliation  of  this  controversy,  on  terms 
honorable  to  God  and  safe  to  man.  The  whole  scheme  of  the 
Gospel,  the  whole  Jewish  and  Christian  system  with  all  their 
sacrifices  for  sin,  from  the  first  lamb  that  bled  on  Abel's  altar 
to  the  last  great  offering  on  Calvary — all  are  based  on  the 
assumption  of  such  a  controversy.  If  there  be  none,  then  tlie 
Gospel  is  a  delusion,  then  all  the  array  of  types  and  prophecies, 
and  miracles  by  which  the  Saviour's  appearance  was  announced 
at  first,  and  afterward  attended,  was  a  mockery.  Then  the 
death  of  Christ  and  the  offers  of  salvation  are  a  farce,  then 
we  are  madmen  and  you  are  dupes. 

But  the  existence  of  this  controversy  is  not  only  revealed  in 
the  word  of  God,  it  is  equally  manifest  from  the  acts  of  his 
providence  and  the  works  of  his  hands.  It  is  written  upon 
the  face  of  human  society,  and  engraven  as  with  a  pen  of  brass 
upon  the  front  of  nature,  so   that    wherever  man  exists,  or  na- 


488  AMBASSADORS   FOR   CHRIST. 

tare  has  been  observed,  the  conviction  has  sunk  deep  into 
every  liunian  bosom,  that  the  Creator  of  nature  and  of  man 
had  a  fearful  controversy  with  the  workmansliip  of  his  hands. 
If  not,  wliy  is  the  history  of  the  world  a  history  of  woe  ? 
Why  is  man  born  in  agony,  why  does  he  die  amidst  tears  and 
groans?  Why  does  the  j^estilence  devastate  earth's  fairest 
regions  ?  Why  does  famine  sweep  her  pale  nations  to  the 
grave  ?  Why  does  disease  in  ten  thousand  forms  still  watch 
about  our  path  ?  Wliy  does  death,  standing  at  the  door  of 
life,  stamp  his  pale  signet  on  the  infant's  brow,  and  claim  it  as 
his  victim?  Ah, — why  is  the  face  of  nature  scarred  as  with 
the  thunderbolts  of  wrath  ?  Why  does  the  volcano  pour  its 
liquid  lava  on  the  earth  and  bury  in  its  fiery  torrents  the  habi- 
tations of  men  ?  Why  does  the  earthquake  burst  her  solid 
rocks,  and  heave  her  quaking  mountains,  and,  yawning  wide, 
engulf  its  populous  cities  ?  Why  do  we  still  discover  in 
earth's  remotest  regions  the  traces  yet  remaining  of  that 
terrible  convulsion,  when  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep 
were  broken  up,  and  over  earth's  loveliest  valleys,  hills,  and 
liighest  mountains — over  all  human  habitations  —  over  all 
man's  hopes,  fears,  joys,  and  sorrows,  the  wild  waters  of  the 
ocean  rolled  along — dark,  boundless,  irresistible — a  fit  em- 
blem of  the  Creator's  majesty — a  fit  element  of  the  Creator's 
wrath? 

Why?  But  tlie  answer  is  already  given,  we  hear  it  in  the 
moans  of  the  dying  infant,  in  the  shrieks  of  the  agonized 
mother,  in  the  groans  of  the  strong  man,  when  in  the  vigor 
of  his  days  he  is  called  to  struggle  with  his  last  foe.  It  comes 
from  the  chamber  of  the  dying,  from  the  grave  of  the  dead, 
from  the  sepulchres  of  earth's  buried  millions.  Down  through 
the  long  lapse  of  centuries,  it  comes  in  tones  that  cannot  be 
mistaken,  loud,  distinct,  solemn.  There  is  a  fearful  contro- 
versy between  God  and  man.  Such  is  the  testimony  of  God 
in  his  Word,  and  in  his  works,  and  now,  does  the  testimony  of 
man  fully  correspond  ?  Most  fully,  "  out  of  thine  own  mouth 
will  I  condemn  thee." 

There  is  not  an  individual  in  this  house  who  will  not  aeknowl- 


AMBASSA.D0R3   FOR   CHRIST.  489 

edge  that  he  is  a  sinner.  Kow  holiness  is  directly,  irreconcil- 
ably opposed  to  sin,  and  if  God  be  a  God  of  holiness,  he  must 
have  a  controversy  with  sin.  Now  sin  is  not  an  idle  abstrac- 
tion, a  word,  without  any  corresponding  thing.  The  world  in 
Aviiich  we  live  is  a  world  of  solemn  and  substantial  realities,  and 
sin  is  the  palpable  act  of  an  accountable  agent,  nay,  in  strict 
propriety  of  speech,  is  really  the  sinner  acting.  Hope  not,  then, 
to  escape  behind  the  flimsy  pretext  that  God  abhors  the  sin, 
but  will  spare  the  sinner.  When  the  executioner  comes  to 
punish  murder,  let  the  murderer  beware.  When  God  shall 
arise  to  take  vengeance  on  sin,  let  the  sinner  tremble.  Ah,  at 
the  judgment-bar  your  subtle  distinctions  will  be  of  no  avail. 
When  heaven  and  earth  shall  flee  before  his  face,  where  will 
your  cobweb  sophistry  be  found  ?  And  this  is  not  the  acknowl- 
edgment of  a  few  educated  under  the  influence  of  Christian 
instruction,  it  is  the  universal  testimony  of  the  human  race, 
it  is  the  voice  of  human  nature,  sounding  as  best  it  may  through 
every  channel  that  can  give  utterance  to  human  thought  or 
feeling — in  history  and  in  fiction,  in  poetry  and  pliilosophy,  in 
all  the  institutions  of  society.  It  is  interwoven  with  the  struc- 
ture of  all  known  languages  as  if  it  were  a  necessary  element 
of  human  thought.  The  fall  of  man  and  his  final  restitution, 
the  sins  of  the  people  and  the  wrath  of  the  gods,  form  the 
staple  of  the  ancient  tragedy  and  epic.  All  the  philosophers 
admit  the  corruption  of  human  nature,  and  even  the  gay  and 
licentious  Horace  admits  that  our  "sins  do  not  permit  the 
thunderbolts  of  the  gods  to  sleep." 

So  deep  was  this  conviction  that  every  misfortune  of  life, 
and  every  uncommon  appearance  in  nature,  was  attributed  to 
some  incensed  and  avenging  deity.  If  a  comet  swept  across 
the  sky,  or  a  meteor  blazed  through  the  air,  or  a  shadow  dark- 
ened the  sun,  whole  nations  trembled;  and  when  in  the  dark 
hour  of  night  the  wintry  wind  howled  around  his  dwelling,  or 
the  loud  storm  burst  over  his  head,  the  aflTrighted  heathen 
crept  pale  and  sliivering  to  his  altar,  for  the  infernal  furies  were 
out  upon  the  wind,  and  some  god  had  spoken  in  his  anger  tVom 
the  clouds.     And  then,  some  victim  must  appease  that  wrath, 


490  AMBASSADORS   FOR   CHRIST. 

some  lamb,  some  trembling  captive,  some  innocent  babe,  mnst 
bleed  upon  that  altar,  perhaps  whole  hecatombs  must  die,  that 
the  indignation  of  heaven  may  be  averted.  But  this  you  say 
is  superstition.  Granted;  yet  every  universal  efiect  must 
have  a  cause  as  universal  as  itself.  No  widespread  opinion 
prevalent  tlirough  all  ages  and  all  nations,  can  be  pure  and  un- 
mixed falsehood,  and  beneath  the  monstrous  and  ever-chang- 
ing forms  of  this  Avild  superstition,  is  clearly  visible  one  great, 
substantial,  unchanging  truth,  distorted,  if  you  please,  de- 
graded, yet  still  a  truth,  stamped  in  enduring  characters  upon 
tlie  human  mind  and  never  to  be  erased,  "  that  there  is  a  con- 
troversy between  God  and  man." 

And  does  not  conscience  add  confirmation  to  this  truth  ? 
Why  does  the  sick  man  at  the  approach  of  death  look  wildly 
in  agony  around,  beg  for  a  day,  an  hour,  a  single  moment? 
Why  does  the  prisoner,  immured  in  his  horrid  dungeon, 
shudder  at  the  thought  of  execution,  and  when  the  hour  is 
struck,  feel  that  this  is  the  consummation  of  woe  ?  Meet  a 
strong  man  in  the  streets  of  a  pestilential  city,  and  tell  him 
that  the  plague-spot  is  on  his  head  and  he  must  die,  certainh', 
instantly  die:  why  does  the  cheek  bleach,  and  the  lips  quiver, 
and  the  pulse  flutter,  and  the  knees  fail,  and  the  eyes  swim  in 
dizziness,  and  the  reason  reel  upon  its  throne?  Is  it  not  all 
because  God  has  a  controversy  with  man,  and  man  knows  that 
he  is  a  sinner,  and  fears  to  stand  before  his  God  in  judgment? 
Is  it  not  all  proof  of  a  deep,  abiding  conviction  of  the  soul  as 
nniversal  as  our  race,  that  there  is  a  day  of  retribution  in 
which  God  will  judge  the  world  in  righteousness,  and  settle 
this  long  standing  controversy  with  man  ? 

Then  how  great  is  the  need  of  reconciliation,  and  how  ur- 
gent is  the  call  of  God  who  is  now  in  Christ  Jesus  reconciling 
the  world  unto  himself  through  the  death  of  the  cross ! 
Behold,  nov/  is  the  accepted  time,  and  now  is  the  day  of  sal- 
vation. God  has  provided  an  atonement.  God  has  found  a 
ransom.  God  has  offered  terms  of  reconciliation,  and  by  the 
preaching  of  the  Gospel  the  invitation  is  extended  to  all  men. 
*'  Ho !  every  one    that    thirsteth,  come    ye    to    the    waters." 


AMBASSADORS  FOR  CHRIST.  491 

"  Whosoever  will,  let  him  take  of  the  water  of  lite  freely." 
"  For  God  hath  made  him  to  be  sin  for  us  who  knew  no  sin, 
that  we  might  be  made  the  righteousness  of  God  in  him." 
*'  Now  then  we  are  ambassadors  for  Christ,  as  though  God  did 
beseech  you  by  us  ;  we  pray  you,  in  Christ's  stead,  be- ye  re- 
conciled to  God." 


THE    END. 


